Ordinary World
by Asael
Summary: When Mukuro's powers are stripped away, he has to depend on Tsuna and the other Vongola guardians while he tries to fight his weakness. Future 8059, 8069, 6918.
1. Chapter 1

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter One**

**by Asael  
**

Tsuna realized later that he should have known something was wrong when Chrome collapsed.

It hadn't occurred to him, and Reborn hadn't said anything, but he still should have known. The only excuse he had was that he'd been nowhere near Chrome when she collapsed.

Things were quiet. It had been three years since Reborn showed up, since the beginning of everything. Tsuna had been enjoying a lull in his otherwise overly active life - not yet required to take his place as Vongola the Tenth, he was enjoying his first year of high school more or less the same way a normal boy would.

There had been no threats, nothing to fight against, for months. Yamamoto and Gokudera were always nearby in case anything went wrong, so Tsuna had had no need for his Mist Guardian. He hadn't thought about Chrome, or Mukuro for that matter, until he received a phone call from Italy informing him that one Chrome Dokuro had been admitted to the intensive care unit of a hospital in the countryside, all expenses to be billed to the Vongola family.

Of course he'd been worried. At first he'd been certain this was a sign of a new enemy, and the fact that Reborn would say nothing only made him more nervous. Tsuna wasn't the boy he'd once been, but he wasn't yet comfortable with his role in the mafia, either. The thought of facing some new enemy - fighting, seeing his friends get injured again - made his stomach hurt.

Then, three days after the phone call, Mukuro showed up on his doorstep.

He had nothing with him, no bags, not even an overcoat. His hair was longer than Tsuna remembered from their first meeting (the last time they'd met in person), and his face was drawn and pale. There was something off about him, but Tsuna couldn't quite place it. He wasn't even entirely sure whether Mukuro was real or an illusion, not until Mukuro spoke.

"Would you mind letting me in? It's cold out here."

It was a crisp April morning, the last gasp of winter, and Tsuna realized he could see Mukuro shivering, ever so slightly. He stepped back from the door, nervously gesturing Mukuro inside. The house was nearly empty, since his mother had gone shopping and taken her normal entourage along, but Reborn was there. He watched Mukuro come in while Tsuna looked between them nervously, hoping for a clue. Reborn didn't look surprised, and Mukuro didn't look inclined to attack or do anything dangerous. Something was going on.

He lead Mukuro to the kitchen, Reborn following along. It was warmest there, and he managed to fix Mukuro a cup of warm tea without spilling water on himself or staring at his new guest too much. Reborn hopped up on the chair opposite Mukuro, and there was silence in the kitchen until Tsuna couldn't take anymore.

He wanted to be forceful, demand that they tell him what was going on. They both obviously knew, and weren't volunteering the information, and Tsuna imagined putting his foot down and ordering them to tell him. He was the next Vongola head, after all!

But old habits died hard. He was barely able to force out, "So... um... what're you doing here?"

Mukuro smiled and Tsuna felt his cheeks go red. "You're the same as ever, Vongola." He wrapped his hands around the cup of tea, absorbing the warmth. He looked oddly delicate, a thought Tsuna never imagined he'd have. "I've been left to your tender mercies now that my previous captors no longer need to watch me."

"Huh...?" Tsuna looked to Reborn for answers, hating the confusion he felt.

"Look at him, Tsuna," Reborn said. "He's not a threat to them anymore."

Tsuna turned back to Mukuro, and suddenly it all made sense. What Reborn said, and why something about Mukuro seemed strange.

Both his eyes were blue.

He had missed it the first time, but now it was impossible not to see.

He looked at Reborn again, since he had absolutely no idea what else to do. This was Mukuro, there was no mistaking it. But... not quite. What had happened?

Reborn was expressionless. Instead, it was Mukuro who answered his question - or a question, at least.

"It's not real," he said. "But I'm afraid I'm incapable of removing the illusion." His smile was brittle, the anger lurking behind it an echo of how terrifying Mukuro could be.

Or maybe not. Because Tsuna was putting the pieces together. Beneath that blue eye was the red one Tsuna was familiar with. Beneath the illusion - the illusion that Mukuro couldn't break. Was that even possible? Mukuro was so strong, and Tsuna didn't think he would normally let such an insult stand.

Normally. But Mukuro was here, and in his actual body - Tsuna could tell that much. Those guys - creatures - whatever, the Vendice, would never have let him out. Rokudo Mukuro, walking free? Impossible.

Unless he was no longer a threat.

Tsuna saw Mukuro's eyes flicker away as realization dawned on him. He couldn't keep it from his face, and until he saw Mukuro's subtle reaction - the slight curl of a lip, the barest sign of disgust - he hadn't known he should. But of course Mukuro would hate to see Tsuna's sympathy for his weakness. He was proud, he would hate that from anyone.

"As you can see, I've been forced to rely on your kindness." Mukuro had a faint smile now, a protest that despite what had been done to him he would not lay down and be crushed. "Would you mind letting me stay for awhile?"

* * *

It was much easier than Tsuna thought. His mother, as always, welcomed one of Tsuna's 'friends' with open arms, clearing out the tiny office (really just a room full of old papers and dust) and finding a spare futon for Mukuro to sleep on.

The only person who might have objected to Mukuro's presence - Fuuta - had gone to Italy a few months ago on a request from the main family. The others didn't seem to care at all, either because they couldn't remember who Mukuro was (Lambo) or because they figured he was no threat (Bianchi).

Mukuro, for his part, had been as polite as could be expected of a guest. He was settled in the other room now, while the rest of the household slept and Tsuna quietly freaked out in his room.

Reborn sat on his bed, and as always, Tsuna couldn't read his expressions. It didn't matter at the moment, though. Tsuna was occupied with his own concerns, mainly why in the world this had happened, what he was supposed to do, and how Mukuro had gotten to Japan - and Tsuna's house - anyway.

Reborn finally spoke up when he heard that last question. "They brought him here. As your Mist Guardian, he is your responsibility. They may have taken his powers, but he still has the knowledge and the will to be dangerous if he chooses. You're expected to look after him now, Tsuna."

Tsuna blanched. "But how am I supposed to do that? And how do we even know it's true and not some kind of weird plan of Mukuro's?"

"What do you think?" Reborn said, looking at Tsuna, no clue to the right answer evident in his big black eyes.

"Well... I mean..." Tsuna fell silent for a moment, remembering Mukuro's unhealthy pallor and thin hands, the way he'd smiled. "I think he's telling the truth," Tsuna said, half-surprised at himself.

Reborn's lips quirked just a little. "You're getting better at this." He hopped down from the bed, coming to stand next to where Tsuna was sitting on the floor. "While you were talking to your mother, I called the Vongola base in Italy. They received word this morning from Vendice. What Mukuro said was true. His powers have been sealed... it's an experimental procedure intended for criminals who are dangerous even when imprisoned. Mukuro was chosen because of that, and also because he had our famiglia to be handed over to upon release." The smile left Reborn's lips, and he focused on Tsuna. "But I don't think it's really worth our time to watch over him."

"You don't think he's a threat to anyone anymore?" Tsuna asked, eyes wide. It was hard to imagine that, and he had a sinking feeling that was only intensified when Reborn shook his head.

"Mukuro is useless to us now. If he can't access his powers, he's no longer qualified to be the Vongola's Mist Guardian. And without his powers, Chrome is useless as well," Reborn said, not batting an eye. "While he might still be dangerous, there's no point in keeping an eye on him. It would only be a liability, and one of your friends might get hurt in the process."

"What do you mean?" Tsuna asked, though he thought he already knew the answer. He didn't like it.

"Mukuro has made a lot of enemies over the years," Reborn said. "When word gets out that he's helpless, they'll come to get their revenge. Do you really think he's someone that you should be protecting?"

Tsuna's mouth dropped open. It was what he had half-expected to hear, but still! "You think we should just let them kill him? Reborn! I can't do that, Mukuro may not be a great guy but that doesn't mean he deserves to be left to die!"

His cheeks flushed red when he realized how loud he'd gotten. He saw Reborn smile like he'd known exactly what Tsuna would say.

"All right, Tsuna. I'll make sure he stays somewhere where you and the others can keep an eye on him. But that's up to you, I won't step in if something happens." The baby checked his watch. "I'm going to go make a few calls." With that, he left the room.

Tsuna sighed a sigh of utter despair and let himself fall back to lay on the floor. He had no idea what to do.

* * *

His body was heavy and weak, he felt each ache all too clearly. Mukuro wasn't used to this anymore - paying attention to the needs of his real body. For all that he had hated being confined in the prison, it had also been useful. He could inhabit other bodies without worrying about his own. He'd been bound and chained, but he could ignore the insignificant pains and focus on Chrome, or walk in illusions.

Now he could do none of that. He lay on a thin futon in Sawada Tsunayoshi's home, breathing and feeling the way his body ached. Tendons and muscles stretching after so long - it was a wonder he was able to walk, talk, pretend to be a normal person.

The room was dark, and Mukuro was exhausted. He hadn't had a chance to rest since leaving the prison, and though it had only been two days, his body craved sleep and time to repair the damage that had been done. He needed to rest and regain the strength he'd lost while imprisoned.

But he couldn't sleep. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, and the hollow emptiness of his mind echoed around him. Mukuro was more cut off from the world now than he'd ever been in back in that tank, with his ability to reach out to Chrome, through Chrome, always tucked away in a corner of his mind.

Now he could not feel her, or anyone but himself. All he could feel was what the creatures crawling this dismal earth felt every day. The blood running through his veins, the breath filling his lungs. The disgusting fragility of the human body.

He imagined it must be even more difficult for Chrome, who was always faithful, always brave, and very aware of the delicacy of her existence.

Mukuro hadn't forgotten her, or Chikusa and Ken. He simply hadn't had any way to contact them. Until now.

He stood, unwilling to admit even to himself the effort it took, the aches that bloomed with each movement. It was not difficult to ignore the pain, that at least was something he could still do. He moved as if he were in no pain, hating the thought of someone seeing his weakness - even though there wasn't a soul there. Strength was useless if you lost it in private.

He made his way down the hall to the Tenth Vongola's room. Light spilled out from under the door, and so he knocked softly before pushing it open. Tsunayoshi was there, of course, looking at Mukuro with wide eyes (he'd always acted like prey, a rabbit suddenly thrust into a world of wolves - an herbivore, one part of his mind said, and he smiled), but the Arcobaleno was nowhere in sight.

Entering the room, Mukuro looked down at the Tenth Vongola sitting on the floor. He was so defenseless, Mukuro's smile grew just a tiny bit. If things were different, it would have been so easy to finally get that body he'd been after for so long - but that was simply not to be. Instead he was forced to depend on Sawada Tsunayoshi's kindness, which luckily for Mukuro he had an overabundance of.

"You- you can't sleep?" Tsuna said, stumbling over his words. He had changed from the boy Mukuro had met not so long ago, but he still didn't quite fulfill the picture of Mafia leadership some expected from him.

Mukuro didn't bother answering the question. "I have a request to make of you," he said, watching Tsuna's eyes get even wider when he heard those words. "Have Chrome moved here."

Confusion passed over Tsuna's face. "But - she's in the hospital. In Italy. Wouldn't it be really expensive to have her moved to Japan? And I bet the hospitals there are good. So why move her?"

"Who will protect her if someone attacks? Like me, she is your responsibility now. I can't help her if something happens - I won't even know," Mukuro said. He knew the idea of Chrome defenseless would play on Tsuna's emotions, and if she was moved to Japan, Chikusa and Ken would follow. Mukuro needed his allies, and this was the best way to bring them closer. "And you can afford it, Vongola. You're the heir to a mafia empire, you know."

Tsuna looked at the floor, unsure. "Reborn doesn't think I should protect you at all."

Mukuro didn't bother to stifle his laughter. "Oh, he's right. You really shouldn't."

He relished the look of shock Tsuna gave him and managed to ignore his body's desire to lean against the wall. His legs were weak, but his will was strong. He didn't waver an inch. To think of Rokudo Mukuro as someone who needed protecting... but now it was true. "It's not really worth it to protect me," Mukuro said. "I can no longer serve as your Mist Guardian, and surely being killed out of revenge would be a fitting end for one like me. But you won't let that happen, will you?"

"No," the Tenth Vongola said, and for a moment Mukuro could see why so many could believe in him. "I won't. You're not all bad, and this could be your chance for a normal life, Mukuro. I'm not going to let you be killed." He bit his lip and the illusion of strength was gone. "Besides, how do you know your powers are gone forever?"

Mukuro smiled just a little, this one genuine. Tsuna was one of the few people in the world who would say something like that about him. It wasn't true, of course, and he couldn't hold the same ideals that the boy did, but in a way he admired them. "I was told that if the seal was tampered with or removed, I would die. So unless it disappears on its own, you'll need to find a new illusionist." Not that such a warning mattered much - once Mukuro was recovered, he fully intended to make his own attempts to remove the seal, promise of death or not.

Tsuna bit his lip, not quite able to look Mukuro in the eye. It was fair enough - Mukuro wasn't quite able to look at himself in the mirror yet, either. "Okay. I'll find a way to get Chrome transferred somewhere close enough to visit. Maybe she'll recover and we won't need to find anyone new..."

It was possible, Mukuro thought. Chrome had a stronger will that most gave her credit for, and she could create her own organs if necessary, though she might need a push. "Thank you, Tsunayoshi. I appreciate that," he said, and smiled. "Now, I'll let you rest. Excuse me."

He slipped back out into the hallway, barely hearing Tsuna's faint "Good night". The walk down the hall back to his room seemed to stretch for a thousand miles, but when Mukuro finally reached his futon and was able to lay down, he relaxed for the first time since breathing fresh air again. The future was uncertain, and he wasn't safe here - or anywhere - but it was better than nothing. He'd done what he could for the ones who depended on him and who he could no longer protect.

Mukuro closed his eyes and let his aches and pains fade into the background. He could think about the rest of his problems later - there was always a way around these things. Always. For now, all he could do was gather his strength.

And so he did. Letting his exhaustion overwhelm him, this time Mukuro was asleep in seconds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Two**

**by Asael  
**

The Kokuyo uniform had been much more interesting, Mukuro thought as he looked in the mirror. It had at least been unique, or he wouldn't have chosen it. This uniform - Namimori High's - looked just like every other Japanese school uniform, and Mukuro found it incredibly boring.

Still, at least they hadn't tried to make him change his hair.

It was all a big joke, anyway. Everyone knew it - except perhaps the school administration, but they didn't really care as long as they got their tuition fee. Adjusting the uniform one last time, Mukuro picked up his schoolbag and headed downstairs where Tsuna was waiting.

This was the Arcobaleno's little plan. Enroll Mukuro at the school the rest of the Guardians attended, and it would be much easier to keep an eye on him. Mukuro didn't really mind - he'd expected nothing more, and he'd already realized that he wouldn't be allowed to leave Tsuna's house without an escort. He had to rely on the Vongola's protection, and that meant he'd have to play by their rules. For now.

He wasn't really looking forward to long, boring hours spent pretending to be a normal student, though. And he thought he'd be happier if the uniform were a little more stylish, at least.

Tsuna was waiting in the entryway, and he smiled at Mukuro a little shakily. He hadn't gotten used to Mukuro's presence, which was fine for the man in question - if Tsuna started treating him like one of his followers, Mukuro didn't think he'd be able to stay. Even if it meant his life.

"It's not a long walk, but we should get going," Tsuna said, and opened the door for them.

Outside of the house, the loud one was waiting. Gokudera, Mukuro remembered, though he didn't particularly care. He'd possessed the boy's body before (in better times), and it appeared Gokudera hadn't forgotten it - he looked at Mukuro with no pity, only suspicion. Mukuro actually felt mildly comforted by this and smiled back at him, which only made Gokudera scowl harder.

"If you keep making that face, it'll stick that way," Mukuro said. It was important to get enjoyment out of the little things in life when in a situation like his.

Tsuna coughed and turned a little red, trying to play peacemaker before Gokudera could get too angry, positioning himself between them as they walked and making inane conversation.

Mukuro tuned it all out, having no interest in how mean the English teacher was or what some girl had said to Tsuna the day before. Still, it successfully kept Gokudera from doing anything more than send him the occasional angry look, so in Tsuna's eyes it was probably worth it. Mukuro didn't particularly care either way.

They had almost reached the high school when Mukuro casually cut in with the only bit of news he cared about. "And how is Chrome doing?"

Tsuna stuttered to a stop, apparently derailed by the sudden topic change. "She's - she's doing okay. Reborn said they'd have her here in a few days."

"That's good," Mukuro said, and smiled at Tsuna. "I'm glad to know that you keep your word." Not that he'd had much doubt of it. Indeed, Mukuro would have been shocked if Tsuna had successfully lied to him about anything at all. He was too transparent, it would have been written all over his face.

"Of course the Tenth would keep his word!" Gokudera said, making that entertaining angry face again. "He's no liar, not like some people!"

Mukuro arched an eyebrow. "I wonder who you could possibly mean." They were nearly to the school gates, and Mukuro was already getting plenty of looks - not surprising, he was a new foreign student after all. He ignored them easily.

"I mean--" Gokudera started, but Tsuna cut him off with a nervous laugh.

"Oh, look at the time! We'd better get to class. Good luck on your first day, Mukuro." He clutched his bag and smiled, obviously eager to break up this poorly-chosen little group.

"Why, thank you," Mukuro said. This morning was actually turning out rather amusing - it was as if Tsuna thought his feelings would be hurt if Gokudera Hayato called him a liar. He caught Tsuna's eye and smiled. "You're a very kind person." His tone carefully straddled the line between mockery and a true compliment.

Tsuna and Gokudera both went red, one with embarrassment and the other with anger, and Mukuro headed off to class with a smile on his face.

* * *

High school really was ridiculous. It was the first day and Mukuro was already bored, he couldn't imagine what would motivate so many people to do it every day for years. Didn't they know they could just get up and walk out? Parental authority, school authority, was only an illusion - particularly because modern schools no longer practiced corporal punishment. The whole sheep-like mentality of the student baffled him.

It was the only interesting thing in the day so far.

Class introductions had been over with quickly, and Mukuro had been assigned a seat. As expected, the other students stared at Mukuro - his hair, his blue eyes, his smile. Few of them were brave enough to talk to him, though, which Mukuro preferred.

The classes were irrelevant and mind-numbing. Instead of listening, Mukuro stared out the window and tried not to fall asleep. He was still tired - it had only been a few days since he arrived in Japan. Mukuro supposed it was impossible to erase the damage from years of imprisonment in a few days, especially when he couldn't really relax.

After all, how could he? The powers that had been given to him by a sick excuse for an experiment had been taken away by the same thing, and now he was powerless. He had to rely on the Vongola family for his own protection, and it made him angry like nothing else.

That was why he had to sit here and act like he cared about the Sengoku Era, after all. It was pointless, but it would keep him safe until he could find a way to fix this. Of course, none of the other Vongola Guardians were even in this class - they weren't very good at the whole protection thing, Mukuro thought, amused.

Then again, it was unlikely that he'd be attacked at school, in the middle of school hours. Too many witnesses. And by the same token, if he was attacked then there would be plenty of warm bodies to put between him and them. It was safe enough, he supposed, if boring.

Mukuro was tempted to put his head down on the desk and sleep - the lecture wasn't making him any less sleepy. Luckily, the bell rang before he decided to give in to his desire.

Lunchtime, the most important period of the day. For the students, at least. Mukuro had of course been supplied with a nicely packed bento by Tsuna's mother, so at least he wouldn't go hungry. The sausages carved into octopus shapes were a nice touch, he thought. It was a little strange, actually, having lunch made for him like this, but he was hungry - he didn't want to think about it too much. He'd been eating through a tube for quite awhile now, anyway.

He stayed at his desk and ate. A few minutes into lunch period, Mukuro heard girlish giggling by the door of the classroom. The source soon became obvious as another of Tsunayoshi's Guardians came in, smiling at the clump of girls by the door. The Rain Guardian - Yamamoto Takeshi, Mukuro remembered.

The boy peered around the classroom, brightening when he caught sight of Mukuro. He walked over without hesitation, a smile on his face.

* * *

"Mind if I eat lunch with you?" Yamamoto asked. He looked Mukuro over - though Mukuro had been staying at the Sawada home for a few days, this was the first time Yamamoto had seen him. He looked thin, undernourished or sick, but the spark in his eyes wasn't dull at all. He was looking Yamamoto over in return.

Finally Mukuro smiled. "Of course, make yourself comfortable." He moved his bento so there was room for Yamamoto's food, and Yamamoto pulled a chair over and sat. Mukuro was studying him, and it was actually a little uncomfortable - a rare thing for Yamamoto to feel, especially because Mukuro's gaze was almost normal now. (Almost. Blue eyes were still a rarity in Japan.) "You know, I don't believe we've actually been introduced."

Yamamoto grinned, realizing it was true. He'd seen Mukuro manifest and fight using Chrome's body, but he'd been unconscious during that initial battle - the last time Mukuro had been free. This was the first time they'd met in person. He laughed and set down his lunch, holding out his hand. "Nice to meet you! I'm Yamamoto Takeshi."

Mukuro laughed quietly as well. "And I'm Rokudo Mukuro. It's a pleasure to meet you." His eyes flickered to the girls by the door as he let go of Yamamoto's hand. "You're very popular. You're not even in this year, and yet I'm worried some of those girls might faint."

"Oh, well, I guess the baseball club's pretty well known here," Yamamoto said with a smile. He didn't really notice the girls, but that was no reason to be rude. "And I don't come to the third-years' floor too often."

"Just for me, then? I'm flattered. My own personal guard and lunch buddy," Mukuro said. "I suppose Reborn was afraid I'd do something stupid if left on my own." There was no hint of anger in his tone, only amusement and slight resignation.

Yamamoto shrugged. "Yeah, pretty much." He didn't see a reason to lie, since Mukuro already knew the score. They'd agreed to take turns keeping an eye on Mukuro, since Tsuna doubted he'd choose to hang out with them and Gokudera insisted he was up to something. So Yamamoto had gone first. But really, eating with Mukuro wasn't bad. He was friendly enough and seemed decent, despite what Yamamoto knew about him. He had a nice smile, even if there was something cruel around the edges of it. Yamamoto thought there was no reason not to give him a chance.

"I guess that can't be helped," Mukuro said. "At least it'll be a little less boring if someone else is around. Though the other students will stare even more..."

"They don't see people like you very often!" Yamamoto laughed, relaxing in his borrowed chair. "Oh hey, I almost forgot!" He dug two slightly battered pieces of chocolate from his pocket, giving one to Mukuro. "Dessert. Don't tell, we're not supposed to bring snacks. And, uh, sorry... looks like I sat on them a little."

Mukuro's eyes brightened a little as he took the candy. "I won't tell a soul." He picked up his chopsticks and finished his lunch. Yamamoto noticed that he ate neatly but very quickly, and that he finished every last grain of rice. It was like he thought his food could be taken away at any moment and he didn't know when he'd next get a meal. Old instincts, Yamamoto thought, and then tried not to think about it anymore. There were some parts of this world he'd found himself in that still bothered him.

"I don't see how you can stand coming to this place," Mukuro said, already putting his chopsticks away while Yamamoto still worked on his rice. "It's not as though you have to. And as a mafia boss' guardians, you could all be receiving private tutoring in Italy anyway."

"Yeah, but Tsuna wanted to finish school here, and the Ninth said it was fine..." Yamamoto realized Mukuro wasn't paying attention to him anymore. His eyes were on the door to the classroom, and for one brief instant there was a strange look on his face - then it was gone, and Yamamoto wasn't sure he hadn't imagined it.

He turned to look at the door. The group of girls was gone, as were most of the other students. That was no surprise, though, since people tended to clear out whenever Hibari Kyoya entered a room at that school.

Though often accused of being an idiot (usually by Gokudera), Yamamoto wasn't stupid about everything. The look on Hibari's face alone could have told him this was going to be trouble, and Mukuro's slight smile wasn't very encouraging either.

Hibari headed straight to them - to Mukuro. Yamamoto stood up, putting himself in between them, and unfortunately within easy range of Hibari's tonfa. He hoped he wouldn't end up regretting that.

"Move, herbivore," Hibari said, barely glancing at Yamamoto. "I'm not here to talk to you." He looked at Mukuro. "You. Get up."

"I'm comfortable where I am," Mukuro said, relaxing in his seat. "Is there something you wanted?" His tone was flippant, casual. Disrespectful.

"Get up and fight, coward," Hibari said, voice growing colder.

Mukuro didn't move, and Yamamoto laughed, trying to defuse the confrontation before it spiraled completely out of hand. "Come on, Hibari, you know he can't fight. Reborn told us what happened."

"Why should I believe that? It's pathetic that the rest of you buy what he's saying so easily." Hibari shouldered Yamamoto out of the way, facing Mukuro directly. "Get up and fight. That's the last time I'll ask."

Folding his hands on the desk, Mukuro smiled at Hibari, meeting his eyes. "If I did, you'd only be disappointed. You want to defeat me, but how satisfying will that be if I can't fight you properly?"

In a flash, Hibari kicked away Mukuro's desk - right into Yamamoto, who stumbled back. Mukuro didn't move when one tonfa whistled past his head, striking the wall behind him. "Fight back!" Hibari ordered, frustration mingling with the anger on his face.

"Don't act so spoiled, Kyoya. You can't always get what you want," Mukuro said, laughing.

Yamamoto couldn't get there fast enough. He could only watch as Hibari struck again, slamming Mukuro back into his chair and bringing his tonfa down hard on Mukuro's arm.

It made a sickening crunch and Yamamoto winced in sympathy. Mukuro didn't blink, but he made a soft noise - a quick, pained inward drawing of breath. His face went pale, and it was enough to make Hibari hesitate for long enough for Yamamoto to get between them agian.

He was angry, he couldn't help it. Mukuro might be everything people said he was - a liar, a murderer, deceptive, possibly insane - but right now he was helpless, and Yamamoto was supposed to be protecting him. "Do you believe him yet, Hibari?" he said, keeping a hold on his temper.

Hibari looked between Yamamoto and Mukuro, and Yamamoto couldn't read him at all. His eyes rested on Mukuro's pale face, then he turned and stalked away without another word.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I guess I'm a pretty crappy bodyguard," Yamamoto said, laughing guiltily as he turned to Mukuro. But Mukuro was watching Hibari leave and said nothing, though he was still pale. "But man, he really doesn't like you! I mean, attacking out of nowhere like that, what was he thinking?" Yamamoto would go back to that question later, but for now there were more important things to take care of. "Come on, let's get you to the nurse's office. That looks bad."

Mukuro blinked, finally moving his eyes from the doorway to look at Yamamoto. "Hm? Oh, that's right." He glanced at his wrist and frowned.

Yamamoto couldn't help laughing again. Mukuro looked more like he was annoyed at a bugbite than anything else, though his wrist looked broken and it had to hurt like hell. Maybe Mukuro wasn't used to that kind of thing anymore. "Come on. Do you need help?"

"No," Mukuro said, and smiled at him. It didn't reach his eyes, but Yamamoto took him at his word, accompanying him to the nurse's office and nothing more.

* * *

His wrist really did hurt, Mukuro thought. Despite his exhaustion, the constant dull throbbing and the sharp pains when he moved his arm were keeping him wide awake. It was annoying, he thought, that there always seemed to be something keeping him from really resting. At this rate, he'd never recover all his strength.

Such as it was.

They'd given him medicine for the pain, but he wouldn't take it. It would make him dizzy and distant, and Mukuro preferred pain and clarity to a world wrapped in cotton. The only illusions he liked were his own.

He left his room, going downstairs for no other reason than that he couldn't sleep and moving might take his mind off the pain.

There was a light on in the kitchen. Mukuro hesitated at first, being in no mood to talk to the young Vongola, but eventually he went in.

He was mildly surprised to see that it wasn't Tsunayoshi at all, but his mother, sitting at the kitchen table and drinking something warm. She smiled when she saw him. "Oh, Mukuro-kun! You can't sleep? Well, that's no surprise, what a terrible day it must have been. Come and sit down. I'll make you some cocoa."

Rather bemused, Mukuro did as she requested and sat at the table, watching as she bustled about the kitchen making cocoa. She seemed cheery, almost carefree, and Mukuro remembered Tsuna telling him that she didn't know about the mafia world. Mukuro had agreed to keep it a secret, but he wondered if it were really true. How could someone be around so many strange things, raise a future mafia boss, and never realize?

But it seemed to be true. She never spoke a word about the mafia, never did or said anything to imply that she knew.

She brought Mukuro a warm cup of cocoa, sitting down again. "Your wrist must hurt... I think it's terrible, you know, all the violence in schools these days. You got your wrist broken on your first day! I hope this doesn't give you a bad opinion of Japanese schools... most of the students are more like my Tsu-kun."

Mukuro smiled. If people kept giving him chocolate, he might start to like it here. "Of course it doesn't," he said smoothly. "It was only an accident, after all. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt me." Tsuna had told his mother that Mukuro had had a freak accident during an arm-wrestling match at school. An extremely incompetent lie, but Tsuna's mother appeared to have bought it anyway.

"Still, I hope your parents don't get upset. They sent you all the way to Japan and you got hurt. I'll have to apologize to them," she said, looking at the cast on Mukuro's wrist.

"That's not necessary," Mukuro said, sipping his cocoa. "I don't have any parents."

Tsuna's mother's eyes widened. "Oh no, I'm sorry! And you're so young... that must have been hard." She fell silent, obviously uncomfortable about have broached such a tender subject.

Mukuro only smiled, letting her draw her own conclusions. Due to his promise to Tsuna, he couldn't tell the truth - that he couldn't even remember his parents, and they'd most likely died at his hands with the rest of the Estraneo.

He didn't think she'd like hearing that, anyway.

"You're a strong boy, Mukuro-kun," she said, smiling at him. There was a tenderness in her eyes that he didn't like. That was what he hated about being stuck in the normal world like this. People were usually sheeplike and stupid, thinking only of themselves, but every now and then they would shown this kindness.

In the life Mukuro had lived up to now, such kindness had been so rare as to be nonexistent. Mukuro was no victim, he had chosen this path and did not feel that he needed the weakness that came with such things - he lived his life without it by choice. It was about survival and accomplishing his goals, nothing more.

He had never felt it, so how could he miss it? The free giving of kindness like that were luxuries and weaknesses that people in his world couldn't afford.

But for Sawada Tsunayoshi and his mother, it came so easily. Though Tsuna might fear him, he still gave Mukuro shelter and protection without yet asking anything in return. His mother treated Mukuro in a way he'd never been treated before - like a normal teenage boy, rather than a murderer with the blood of countless people on his hands.

Their weakness bothered him, their willingness to simply accept him. Certainly this woman never would if she knew all that he'd done. He hated the way they blindly opened their lives like this. How foolish, how sheltered did you have to be to live like them?

It disgusted him, but the thing that he hated the most was that some part of himself, buried deep down and nearly smothered, actually wanted this. Love and acceptance without strings attached. No poison in a cup of tea, no razor blade in the middle of an apple.

He could not be that weak. He was not about to become like them, a lamb easily lead to the slaughter. Even now, without his powers, it would take almost no effort at all to end the lives of any of the 'normal people'. Couldn't they see that?

"Thank you for the cocoa," Mukuro said with a smile. "I think I'll be able to sleep now." He stood.

"Of course! Go get some rest, Mukuro-kun." She smiled back at him, and he was certain that her smile was nowhere near as fake as his own. "It was nice talking to you. Good night."

"Good night," Mukuro murmured, and then he left, back to his room. Maybe he really would be able to sleep now, but mostly he just wanted to get away.

How long would he have to live like this?

* * *

Author's Note: I guess I should probably say that I began this fic before the TYL arc had finished, and so it's essentially an AU from after the end of the Ring Conflict. Tsuna and co. never went to the future, though they've had other wacky Mafia adventures. This is set... I guess about three years after the Ring Conflict. Thanks for the kind comments!


	3. Chapter 3

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Three**

**by Asael  
**

Mukuro didn't particularly like hospitals. Not that there was anything wrong with them, per se, but they stank of death and they were always full of miserable people, no matter how hard the nurses tried to plaster smiles on.

On second thought, maybe he did like hospitals.

This was a first for him, actually. Mukuro had never really been to a hospital just to visit someone before. He wondered if he should have brought flowers - the nurses were giving him strange looks as they passed. Of course, that could have just been because of Gokudera Hayato, scowling as he followed Mukuro down the white halls. He really didn't have the right demeanor for a hospital, Mukuro thought.

When they found Chrome's room, Gokudera stayed outside with little argument. Mukuro entered alone, walking to the bed where she lay. He looked down at her quiet, still form, connected by wires and tubes to the machines keeping her alive. She was very small.

"You should be stronger than this," he murmured. Even without his support, she had enough power to create her own organs. She may not have been able to do much more than keep herself alive, but that at least should have been in her power.

Of course, she had to have the will and the knowledge, and she was used to following his guidance. Now that he couldn't step into her mind, Chrome had to do it on her own.

"I know that you can," Mukuro said, and reached out to rearrange her hands. He folded them across her chest, carefully leaving the Vongola ring in clear view. Tsunayoshi would be visiting soon, Mukuro knew, and it couldn't hurt to remind him of his responsibilities towards the girl. And towards Mukuro.

He was no sentimentalist. Now that he could no longer visit Chrome's mind to check her condition, he'd had to come here and do it in person. Now that he'd done that, there was no reason to stay. It wasn't as if she could respond to him.

With a last glance at Chrome's unconscious body, Mukuro left the hospital room. Gokudera was leaning against the wall next to the door, glaring at anyone who had the audacity to walk past him.

"Let's go," Mukuro said, looking at his keeper for the day. They seemed to be taking turns at it, these Vongolas, since he was never alone at lunch, and he always walked back with Tsuna. This was the first time Gokudera had done it, and the first time Mukuro had tried to go anywhere after school. He assumed this had to do with other commitments by his most frequent companions, Yamamoto (whose days revolved around the baseball club) and Sasagawa Ryohei (who refused to shut up about the boxing club, no matter what Mukuro did).

Gokudera wasn't the most pleasant escort, however. As they left the hospital, without even glancing at Mukuro, he said, "Well? Did you get what you wanted? The Tenth wasn't lying, you know. He said he'd bring her and he did." His tone was unashamedly hostile.

Mukuro decided it would be easier, and probably more interesting, if he didn't try to argue that particular point. He'd never really doubted Tsuna's honesty, after all - if he doubted anything, it was Tsuna's abilities and mental strength. There wasn't much point of trying to convince Gokudera of his (nonexistent) good intentions, though. "Yes, he certainly came though," was all Mukuro said, with a smile.

Gokudera bristled, as if Mukuro had insulted Tsuna in some way. He hadn't, of course, but he supposed his tone hadn't been sufficiently respectful. It hadn't been respectful at all.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but don't think you can get away with it. None of us trust you," Gokudera said.

"Is that so?" Mukuro said, but he was already tuning Gokudera out. He had no interest in a rant about how evil he was, and he had other things to think about. With Chrome an invalid for now, that left him only Chikusa and Ken. He didn't know how far they could get on their own, but they'd have to do. Reborn barely let Mukuro into the backyard without an escort, despite the absence of attacks so far. Even if Mukuro could wander freely, it wasn't as if he'd be able to do much of anything without his powers. It was an infuriating situation.

"Hey!" Gokudera snapped, whirling to glare at Mukuro. "You aren't even listening to me, what the hell's your problem?"

It was true, Mukuro hadn't been listening to him. But he'd at least tried to answer whenever Gokudera's intonation seemed to indicate he'd asked a question - usually a noncommittal 'Mm'. Some people were so demanding. Mukuro shrugged and smiled, not bothering to lie. "No, I wasn't listening. I do sometimes get bored - and I think I've heard this episode of the Gokudera show plenty of times already. Let me guess, you were talking about how Tsuna is like an amazing god, and I am bottom-dwelling scum that doesn't deserve his kindness?"

"Don't talk about the Tenth that way," Gokudera said with a growl. "You know you don't deserve it. He's going out of his way to protect you, even though we all know that you'd stab him in the back in a second if you could. And you're an ungrateful bastard who can't even act decent."

"Pot, meet kettle," Mukuro said with a smirk, warming up to this little conversation. "I'm not the only one who apparently never learned manners. At least I have an excuse, unless they just don't teach manners in your mafia families anymore. If Tsunayoshi wants to waste his time and energy on someone like me, that's his miscalculation. Or are you just angry that I get to live with him? Sleep in the same house... take baths together... am I sensing jealousy?"

Gokudera went bright red - out of anger or embarrassment, Mukuro didn't know or care. "The hell's your problem? Oh, screw this. I'm not walking you home. Who the fuck cares if you get attacked, they'd be doing the world a favor." He scowled at Mukuro. "I hope you run into Hibari and he breaks your other arm." And with that he whirled and stalked off.

Mukuro sighed to himself. Really, he should have seen that coming. It would have been easy enough to keep from provoking Gokudera - despite his intelligence, he was a simple man when it came to emotions - but Mukuro couldn't help himself sometimes. He was trapped here, as surely as he'd been in that prison, but now he didn't even have his illusions to escape into. He felt like he was wrapped in wool sometimes, living this life in this world. No pain, no death. He wanted to shatter it, reveal the filth and dirt hiding underneath these Vongola's fake normal lives.

Not every moment of every day. That would be futile and tiring, and Mukuro knew it wasn't in his best interests. But his true nature wasn't kind and friendly like Yamamoto, or fierce and loyal like Gokudera. He was cruel, and he knew the true face of the mafia better than any of these children, and sometimes it just got too tiring to play the role of 'normal boy'.

And Gokudera was so easy to get a reaction from.

It wasn't as if Mukuro had been likely to win him over with charm and sweet smiles, anyway.

Tsunayoshi's house wasn't far and the journey was uneventful. Mukuro felt Reborn's eyes on him when he returned unaccompanied, though, and internally he sighed. Perhaps he'd better control himself in the future. Just in case.

* * *

That night, after dinner, Mukuro slipped outside in the cool evening air. He knew he was being watched from inside the house, but he didn't particularly care. He'd have done this inside, if he could - he didn't care what Reborn might hear. Unfortunately, Ken tended to break or take things by 'accident' whenever he was inside a house, and Mukuro didn't want to wear out his welcome so soon. Outdoors was safer.

Besides, he knew that both Chikusa and Ken would feel uncomfortable inside the Sawada household. He wasn't exactly comfortable there himself.

They were waiting in the garden, Chikusa leaning against the wall and Ken shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. They both straightened when they saw Mukuro in the dim light, Ken taking two steps toward him before stopping just outside the border of Sawada's mother's herb garden. Mukuro stepped over the plants, walking to them.

"Mukuro-sama," Ken said, practically hovering, a worried look on his face. In a moment it was replaced with anger, and Mukuro almost laughed at the comfortable familiarity of Ken's changeable emotions. "What did they do to you?"

"Sealed my powers," Mukuro said almost casually, though thinking about it still made him want to strangle someone. One hand brushed the skin under his eye unconsciously.

Ken growled, and even Chikusa took a step closer. "Those assholes. Those mafia bastards all seriously think they can just play with people's lives however they want. We oughta tear them to pieces." He smirked. "And then pee on the pieces."

"Disgusting," Chikusa muttered, and Mukuro smiled. It was just barely possible that he'd missed them, after months and years of only speaking to them sparingly through Chrome.

"For now, I'm free. But I want my powers back. I don't believe it's impossible - there's a way. And that's what I need you to do," Mukuro said, watching them both. He saw the way they turned their attention to him. They would do whatever he asked, as they always did.

Chikusa stirred. "You want us to gather information."

"Yes," Mukuro said. "Anything you can find. Who created this seal, who ordered it made. Who decided that I would be the ideal subject. Most of all, how it was made."

"You should come with us, Mukuro-sama. Staying with these guys has gotta suck, and it's not like it's really safe or anything. Besides, even without your powers, you're way better at that kind of stuff than we are," Ken said. His eyes were wide, and Mukuro was strangely touched by his worry.

He shook his head anyway, brief and final. "The Vongola family is guarding me. I'm safer here."

"What about your arm?" Chikusa said, eyes flickering down.

Mukuro glanced down as well. He'd almost forgotten about that, though it was rather awkward. "That was Hibari Kyoya. Nothing to worry about, he was just frustrated."

Ken scowled and Chikusa frowned, but they both dropped the subject. Mukuro trusted that it was for good, because he was certain that Hibari could easily defeat either of them if they decided to get some kind of revenge, and he didn't want to lose any more allies with Chrome down.

"I'll stay here. They'll protect me, and when Chrome wakes up I'll be able to show her how to help," Mukuro said, and Ken looked up.

"Yeah, right... how's that useless girl doing anyway? I mean, it's not like I really care, she's just a burden, but I'm pissed that she conked out when we could use her."

Mukuro laughed. It was always the same with Ken. "I imagine she was caught off guard by losing my support and contact so suddenly. But she is strong enough to support herself, at least. She'll wake up once she's managed that, and I'll explain things to her."

"How should we contact you?" Chikusa asked, mind on the mission already.

"You can call me, I suppose," Mukuro said with a frown. He didn't like that idea very much, phones were too easily tapped. But there was no other option, not really, and at least he had procured the cell phone he had with his own money, rather than having to ask Reborn for one. Well, it hadn't exactly been his own money, but possession was nine-tenths of the law, after all.

Chikusa appeared to share his distaste, but he nodded. It only took a moment to give them the number, and he knew Chikusa wouldn't forget it.

Mukuro was certain that if they looked hard enough they'd find something, and 'something' would at least give him clues. Vendice wouldn't be easy to investigate, especially for ex-convicts, and Mukuro was frustrated that he couldn't help.

But he sent Ken and Chikusa off with a smile and a promise to tell them if anything happened in Japan. Hiding his irritation was difficult at times, but it would serve nothing to show it.

After they left - Ken with a reluctant glance back before he went over the wall - Mukuro sat down on the edge of the back porch, looking up at the stars that were just beginning to come out. He didn't want to go back inside yet, didn't want to deal with the Sawada family (and their various hangers-on).

The only good part about this whole situation was that at least out here he could breathe the air.

* * *

Tsuna let the curtain fall, turned away from the window. He felt guilty for watching Mukuro like that, but what if someone attacked him? Or what if he just decided to leave? It wasn't as if Tsuna could really stop him, but he could at least try to talk him out of it.

Earlier, Reborn had said that he shouldn't worry about Mukuro - that Mukuro was one of those people who were experienced in doing anything necessary to cling to life, even powerless. But how could Tsuna not worry? It was true that Mukuro pretty much deserved this, and could probably use punishment of some kind. But weren't those years in that prison enough? In that tank, chained up like an animal?

Maybe Mukuro deserved that, but Tsuna was sure that he hadn't deserved what had been done to him as a child. What child could deserve that? The family had done it should have been punished too - but not the way Mukuro had done it.

When you got right down to it, Tsuna didn't know what to think. Of course he was disturbed by the things Mukuro had done, of course he thought they were horrible. But Mukuro hadn't just randomly become what he was, the mafia had made him that way. And how was what he had done that much worse than what some parts of the mafia did every day?

They had made him. Wasn't it unfair to automatically condemn him, as if their own actions had nothing to do with what had happened? Wouldn't it be better, instead, to try to help him, rehabilitate him?

Reborn had once warned him not to have sympathy for Mukuro, but it was difficult for Tsuna not to. Mukuro might be something of a monster, but Tsuna knew that he cared about his friends - or minions, whatever. He might never admit it, but to Tsuna it was obvious that Mukuro would do just about anything to keep Chikusa and Ken free, and Chrome safe - including selling himself to the Vongola and becoming part of the mafia he hated so much.

He wasn't all bad, he couldn't be. And he was one of Tsuna's Guardians, so didn't that make it his job to help him?

Tsuna knew that Reborn would probably have said no. And not too long ago, he'd have been too scared to, anyway. He'd changed a lot since then, though that didn't mean he wasn't still kind of scared of Mukuro - it just meant that he knew he couldn't give up on him, scared or not. He had a responsibility, one that he would remember whether or not he saw the ring on Chrome's finger.

He just wished there was some way to make Mukuro see that, to make Mukuro realize he could trust Tsuna.

But Tsuna hadn't the least idea how to do that.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and sunny. By lunchtime, clouds had gathered overhead and begun to threaten rain, but it was still warm and dry.

After lunch with his designated handler of the day (Ryohei, who had used the lunch hour to describe his boxing practice in detail), Mukuro cut his afternoon classes and went up to the roof. The weather was perfect, warm enough to make him sleepier but not sunny enough to be uncomfortable.

Mukuro was tired still, but more importantly, he was sure that if he had to sit through one more math class he'd throw himself into oncoming traffic and ruin the Vongola's hard work protecting him. The math teacher undoubtedly wouldn't miss him, since he'd quickly realized that instead of actually doing the problems Mukuro just chose numbers at random when forced to answer.

He had only been up there for a few minutes before he heard footsteps approaching, stopping not far from him. That particular measured pace... he opened his eyes. Bingo. Hibari Kyoya, glaring down at him as if he were some kind of giant cockroach.

Mukuro smiled. "Someone's skipping class," he said, and then, as Hibari's expression darkened, "Ah, right. It's me." He didn't bother sitting up, head pillowed on his uniform jacket. "Do you want something, Kyoya?"

"I didn't give you permission to call me that," Hibari said. "Go back to class."

"I didn't ask your permission, and I won't." Mukuro smirked. "What will you do, break my other arm?"

Hibari's eyes went to the cast on his arm, but his expression didn't change. "It wouldn't be difficult. You're weak."

"Weak and vulnerable, like a little baby," Mukuro said, an edge to his words. "It would be easy and unsatisfying, but you're welcome to it if you'd like." He stretched his unbroken arm out, looking up at Hibari.

For a moment, Mukuro wasn't sure what Hibari would do - he might well end up with two broken arms. Not that he minded, actually, or else he wouldn't have offered in the first place. He just wanted to see how Hibari would react.

In the end, Hibari just frowned. "I have no interest in that."

"You have no interest in most things, Kyoya, isn't that right? Maybe you just really need to get laid." Mukuro wondered just how far he could push Hibari. He was sure that Hibari's temper would snap in a much more interesting and violent way than Gokudera's... he needed some variety in this life. What if he was stuck like this forever, an endless parade of stifling days, school, and inane conversations? No more fighting, no more illusions, no more slipping into someone else's body like a perfectly fitted suit.

No more reaching out to touch Chrome's mind, or anyone else's. Just silence and emptiness.

Fighting with Hibari would certainly break the tedium, even if he would inevitably lose.

Hibari seem disinclined to grant his desire today, however, smirking slightly as he answered, "Not by you."

Mukuro laughed at the unexpectedness of the response. Maybe it was even better than anger. Could it be that Hibari Kyoya actually had a sense of humor concealed somewhere? "I'm terribly hurt, but I'll just have to work through the pain. You're not my type anyway, I'd prefer someone a little more... dumb."

"Someone you can manipulate into doing whatever you want," Hibari said. It wasn't a question.

"Exactly. You know me so well, Kyoya. It's much more tedious now that I can't possess people, you know." Strangely, Mukuro found he appreciated Hibari's lack of response when he said such things. Tsuna's discomfort had been amusing at first, but all of the Vongola children reacted the same way when he talked about his powers, killing, the mafia. Like they didn't want to think that it wasn't all wacky adventures and good times with your family.

Hibari just didn't seem to care at all. Mukuro felt proud, in a way - he'd always known Hibari was something special, someone strong.

"When you're stronger, we'll fight," Hibari said abruptly, breaking Mukuro from his thoughts. Mukuro smiled at him, feeling rather benevolent.

"Yes, yes, I'll fight you. Don't you worry, as soon as I get my powers back I'll give you a fight to remember." And he even meant it, at least for now.

Hibari nodded curtly, his brief, strange playfulness gone. "Be back in class by the next bell." He turned and left the roof, leaving Mukuro alone again.

Mukuro closed his eyes, feeling somehow better. He had thirty minutes, give or take, and he needed a nap. He wondered about that odd conversation with Hibari. Had it been an apology? More likely it had been some odd whim of Hibari's.

Either way, Hibari had been rather adorable, Mukuro thought.

He fell asleep with a slight smile on his face.

* * *

Author's Note: I just realized that has been screwing with my formatting, deleting the line breaks between POV changes. How annoying. Anyway, I went back through and re-added them to the first two chapters, and I'll be more careful from now on.


	4. Chapter 4

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Four**

**by Asael  
**

The days passed slowly. Sometimes Mukuro thought the only difference between this and being locked in that dank prison was that here, the fresh air and sunlight were real instead of products of his illusions.

Some days he found himself almost getting used to it - the rhythms of a normal life. Sometimes he went through it in a daze, barely paying attention to the things around him, his mind worlds away. Sometimes he picked fights with Tsunayoshi or his other guardians out of pure angry boredom and frustration. They were surprisingly forgiving - particularly Ryohei and Yamamoto, though it was possible they just forgot about the things Mukuro said to them when irritated. It just made him feel even more like a charity case.

He'd go completely mad if he had to put up with it all the time. He was tired, and so he slept a lot - in class, on the roof, wherever he thought he wouldn't be disturbed. He was certain that the desperate boredom of this life was exhausting him.

Gokudera had apparently refused to take his turn as Mukuro's lunch guard from now on, so he saw even more of Sasagawa Ryohei, Tsunayoshi, and Yamamoto, who persisted in being friendly, most likely out of guilt over Mukuro's arm. Or maybe he felt bad because Mukuro had no friends (and no interest in making any, as none of the students here could be useful to him).

Either way, Mukuro saw a lot of him. He wasn't sure what to make of the boy. He seemed happy, simple, carefree, and yet Mukuro knew that Reborn considered him a born hitman. Mukuro had only rarely seen him fight, through Chrome's eyes, so he reserved his judgment.

Yamamoto made a pleasant enough lunch companion, though. He had showed up at Mukuro's classroom door again today, with his bento and extra onigiri to share. It was raining that day, which made Mukuro drowsy and more likely to be pleasant himself, so he smiled at Yamamoto and gestured for him to sit.

As usual, he listened to Yamamoto's summary of his latest game against another school. Not particularly in the mood for talking, Mukuro simply ate and said "Hmm," from time to time. Yamamoto never seemed bothered by this, which Mukuro found relaxing.

When they'd finished eating, Yamamoto looked out the window, watching the rain fall hard and steady. "Hey," he said with a smile, "are you doing anything after school?"

Mukuro looked at him for a moment before answering. "My social calendar seems to be rather free right now." Yamamoto was certainly already aware that the only place Mukuro ever went was the hospital, for occasional updates on Chrome's condition.

He laughed. "Great! It looks like we're not going to be able to have practice today. You wanna come with me? I'll treat you to sushi."

It was a surprising offer, if only because it was the first time anyone had made such a gesture since Mukuro had come here. None of Tsuna's other minions seemed interested in extending the hand of friendship - which was all right, since Mukuro really had no interest in those kinds of things.

Still, he smiled at Yamamoto. Given Yamamoto's general nature, Mukuro felt rather certain he'd been invited out of pity rather than friendship. He was not interested in accepting others' pity, but Yamamoto seemed so sincere anyway - and more importantly, Mukuro was sick of spending time cooped up in the Sawada household.

"All right," he said, and Yamamoto's grin got wider.

"Okay, then I'll meet you at the school gates after classes are over." He looked somewhat proud of himself, which Mukuro chose to ignore. It really wasn't that much of an accomplishment to ask him to go somewhere.

He kept smiling, though, and pointed out, "The bell's about to ring."

Yamamoto reflexively looked at the clock, then laughed. "You're right! I better get going before I get marked late again. See you later, Mukuro." He gathered up his lunchbox and left the classroom with one last smile for Mukuro.

Mukuro watched him go. Maybe this would even be fun.

* * *

As usual, Mukuro paid little attention to his classes. He'd discovered that if he slept through history class, the teacher - old and clearly anticipating retirement - wouldn't care and wouldn't even try to wake him. So by the time he met Yamamoto at the school gates, he had at least a little energy (though he wouldn't have minded a longer nap).

Yamamoto smiled when he saw Mukuro, reaching out to take his bag without asking. Mukuro raised an eyebrow, amused, and Yamamoto shrugged. "Your arm's hurt, it's not like it's easy to carry a bag and an umbrella like that." He slung Mukuro's bookbag over his shoulder with his own baseball bag.

Mukuro decided to allow it, still amused by Yamamoto's chivalry. Truthfully it was a little difficult to carry both bag and umbrella in this heavy rain, so it was some help, and he could move more easily.

They walked together, a few passing students looking at them curiously. Yamamoto didn't seem to notice, but Mukuro smirked back at them. He was used to being the subject of the other students' interest, but that didn't mean it wasn't occasionally annoying.

It wasn't long before they reached the sushi restaurant. Mukuro knew about it, of course, but he'd never been there before - even now he had no desire to socialize with the members of Tsunayoshi's little court. Today there were few customers, though, and certainly no one else their age.

Yamamoto's father greeted his son with a pleased cry of "Welcome home", and few of the other customers did the same - regulars, no doubt. Yamamoto lead Mukuro to sit at the counter, and they waited until his father was free to come and talk to them.

"Dad," Yamamoto said when he finally came over, "this is my friend Mukuro, from school. He's new."

Mukuro wondered how true Yamamoto thought that 'friend' comment was. He smiled carefully at Yamamoto the elder, noticing the hints of suspicion and worry in his eyes. It wasn't unfounded - Mukuro knew that his name and his hair gave off nothing but the impression of a foreign delinquent. But he had a smile that could disarm the strongest of suspicions when he tried, even if it was a lie through and through.

"He's from Italy," Yamamoto said with a grin, and his father brightened.

"Like Gokudera? That's all right, then," he said, as if Gokudera's strangeness served as a benchmark for all other Italians, and since Mukuro wasn't currently yelling at anyone, clearly he was all right. Mukuro wasn't sure how to feel about that. "So, I guess you boys would like some sushi, then."

"Yeah, I told Mukuro I'd treat him, since he just recently got here and all," Yamamoto said.

Yamamoto's father seemed happy enough to make them sushi in between serving his other customers. Mukuro wasn't squeamish about raw fish, and so he enjoyed the meal, indulging Yamamoto in meaningless chatter about school, the weather, and baseball.

The restaurant got busier as dinnertime approached, and Yamamoto's father left them alone most of the time. Mukuro took advantage of their relative solitude to smile at Yamamoto and ask, "Why did you bring me here?"

Yamamoto looked surprised, briefly. "I just wanted to."

Mukuro wondered what the real reason was. Pity? Or was he trying to distract him for some reason, or get information? Mukuro acknowledged the possibility that everything might really be just as it seemed, but he had survived this long by acknowledging that possibility and then looking more deeply. He would not change that now, when he needed more than ever to be on his guard.

But he knew that his life wasn't at stake this time. It was his curiosity alone that had made him ask - mostly. He changed subjects, ignoring Yamamoto's confusion. "Your father is very kind," Mukuro said, sipping his green tea with a smile.

To his credit, Yamamoto shrugged confusion off without batting an eye - maybe he was used to it. He smiled back at Mukuro. "Yeah, he's a real good guy. I think he likes you, too."

"I'll have to thank him for the good food," Mukuro said. He wondered how the Arcobaleno had thought this was a good idea. One of Tsuna's guardians - who were destined to be blood-soaked, feared by hundreds or thousands of people - was this simple boy. Raised with love, caring only about baseball until he unwittingly entered a world where he didn't belong.

Perhaps, like Reborn said, deep down inside Yamamoto Takeshi there was the soul of a natural hitman. But even if it were true, he would lose everything eventually. He would have this simple life completely torn apart, sooner or later. Mukuro could see the remnants of Yamamoto's innocence when their eyes met, barely holding on as it slowly dissolved.

In a way, Mukuro was pleased that Reborn was not soft like Tsuna, that he was hard enough to see the potential in a young boy and send him down a path that would only end in blood.

Mukuro wondered if Yamamoto had killed a man yet.

Most of the guardians were more suited for the job. Gokudera, and even Lambo the immature Thunder Guardian, had been born and mostly raised in the mafia. They knew what would be expected of them, the duties they would take on.

Mukuro doubted that Hibari Kyoya would care either way. It amused him, really, and he looked forward to seeing the man Hibari would become.

He knew that he himself was, ironically, a perfect pick. Although Mukuro hated the mafia, for that same reason he knew it in and out. He wouldn't flinch from anything.

But the last two - Rain and Sun, Yamamoto Takeshi and Sasagawa Ryohei - knew nothing. They both had potential, that was obvious, but bringing them into the world of the mafia would be eventually destroying these lives they lived so calmly, with families and friends, schools and sports. They had only seen the barest edges of the world of the mafia, not the darkness Mukuro knew so well.

It was nothing to him, not really. Only more evidence that the mafia corrupted everything it touched - and it touched nearly everything.

He wondered, though, if it would end up breaking them.

"It's starting to get dark," Yamamoto said, interrupting his thoughts. "I'd better walk you back."

"How thoughtful," Mukuro said, smiling, as always. "And will you carry my bag again?"

Yamamoto just laughed and bent over, picking up both of their bags.

* * *

It was still raining as they walked to Tsuna's house. Yamamoto walked next to Mukuro, carrying both of their schoolbags. He glanced over at the other boy from time to time, but mostly they walked in semi-comfortable silence.

Mukuro had smiled and talked to him and gave every appearance of truly having a good time. But still, Yamamoto wondered. Mukuro always seemed disconnected, like he wasn't really part of the things that went on around him, or maybe just like he didn't want to be. As if he knew he wouldn't be here long, so why bother getting attached?

It bothered Yamamoto a little. Despite all the things he'd heard - sometimes loudly and at length, from Gokudera - he liked Mukuro. Sure, he was a little strange, and sometimes he said things that made Yamamoto uncomfortable, but he didn't seem to be that bad of a person. He was funny, and smart, and nice to look at.

He just didn't want to be one of them. And sometimes, he looked at Yamamoto strangely - a mixture of pity and anticipation, he thought, but why?

Yamamoto wasn't a deep thinker. He didn't worry over things like Tsuna, or attempt to pick a problem apart like Gokudera might. It wasn't really that he was stupid, just that he didn't see much use for that stuff. Things usually worked themselves out in the end, so why stress about it?

He wasn't sure that Mukuro would work himself out in the end, though. Yamamoto knew that there were things going on that he didn't really understand - it was hard to see things from Mukuro's perspective, because he didn't know what Mukuro's perspective was. All he really knew was that he liked Mukuro, liked spending time with him, but that despite everything Mukuro wasn't exactly a friend.

They walked down back streets toward Tsuna's home, rain coming down around them as the sky steadily darkened. They were passing a small neighborhood bakery, closed and dark, when Yamamoto realized they were being followed.

It wasn't because of any sight or sound, but rather the innate sense of danger created and honed by being Tsuna's guardian, being put in situations like this again and again. He looked at Mukuro and found Mukuro looking at him. The other boy smiled. "Don't let me down, Takeshi."

And then the enemies were on them. In a second, Yamamoto had retrieved his sword from the sports bag he carried, letting bags and umbrella drop and blocking the first strike. They didn't have guns, which was a blessing, but swords, knives, and fists could do enough damage.

There were five of them. It was hard to see, the street lit by one dim streetlight a couple buildings down, but Yamamoto knew the area well enough that it was more of an advantage than anything.

As always, he fought instinctively, slipping through the forms his father had taught him without a thought, blocking and striking, but careful - always careful to disable, not kill, if he could.

He was good, but there were five of them against him, after all. He tried to guard Mukuro as best he could, but the odds were against him. Yamamoto knocked one man off his feet and another slipped past while he was kicking the downed man's knife away. He immediately had to block a third man, and then he heard the sound of shattering glass behind him. He cursed and spun around, slashing a fourth man across the back of the legs - blade turned to break bone, not cut - but there was no need.

Mukuro had blocked the man's attack with his closed umbrella, now bent and broken on the ground, and had somehow managed to send him into the window of the darkened bakery. The man knelt on the sidewalk, surrounded by shards of glass, and struggled to stand - stunned from the impact, hands bloody from catching himself on broken glass.

Yamamoto had turned just in time to see Mukuro - powerless, defenseless Mukuro - pick up the man's fallen switchblade, step behind him, and (quickly, calmly, businesslike) cut his throat.

Mukuro let the man fall, holding the blade he took, watching the remaining men. It wasn't difficult to see that things weren't going so well for them. Two injured, one dead. They saw it too, and retreated, one limping and one carried by a colleague, leaving the body behind.

Yamamoto let them go. He was watching Mukuro.

"Why did you do that?" Yamamoto asked.

Mukuro looked back at him, barely seeming to notice him there. "Do what?" He waited, but got no response, and eventually took out his cell phone. "The Vongola family should take care of this mess." He called someone - Reborn, it sounded like - and casually explained that they'd been attacked. It didn't take long, and when he finished he turned back to Yamamoto. "He said we should wait here. He'll come."

Yamamoto nodded slightly, but he was looking at the dead man's blood, thick and dark and sticky among the glittering glass shards. "You shouldn't have done that, Mukuro," he said quietly.

"Why not?" Mukuro said.

"Because you didn't have to," Yamamoto said, looking at Mukuro again, seeing that look in his eyes - calculation, pity, interest. And something else, something else he couldn't place that made it feel like Mukuro hardly saw him at all. "We would have managed."

"Have you killed anyone yet, Yamamoto Takeshi?" Mukuro asked, a faint note of dismissal in his voice, as if he didn't want to be having this conversation. "If you always fight with the intent to injure only, you'll never reach your full potential. You're good right now. You could be great."

Yamamoto didn't say anything for a moment. He had killed, and more than once. To protect Tsuna, or Gokudera, or someone else. But it hadn't been like Mukuro made it sound - like one death on the edge of his blade would wash his conscience away, make it easy to kill again.

It was true, he was no genius. He never would be, and he was happy that way, but even so... even so, he remembered the face of everyone he killed. He would never forget, he was sure of that, even if killing did become easy for him.

"That man might have had a family. Children," Yamamoto said. He wondered if Mukuro remembered the faces of the ones he'd killed. He knew that was impossible, knew by the way Mukuro's own face hadn't changed even for a moment when he killed that man. Mukuro had so many bodies in his past that he'd ceased to count, ceased to care.

"He made his choice. When he joined the mafia he made his choice, and when he attacked us he made it again." Mukuro's voice was cool, and Yamamoto felt a tightening in his chest - Mukuro was barely older than him, but it was so easy for him to say those things.

"He would have killed us," Mukuro said. "So why should I hesitate to do the same to him?"

Was this what would happen to him someday? Would killing become a natural action, would it no longer be a last resort? Despite his certainty that he wouldn't change - would he just stop caring, like Mukuro?

Maybe, Yamamoto thought, but... "That doesn't make it right," he finished softly, looking at Mukuro with sadness. It seemed to take an effort, but Mukuro was focusing on Yamamoto now. But even with his sharp eyes, he looked vulnerable - more vulnerable than he really was. His thin frame and pale face, his wet hair and clothes made him look young, almost innocent.

Yamamoto came to his senses, realized the rain was still falling in torrents. Mukuro's umbrella was destroyed, and he really was almost frighteningly pale. He laughed, somewhat weakly, and picked up his own umbrella. "Hey, no need to stand out in the rain. Come here."

Mukuro said nothing, but smiled slightly - far away again - and came to stand under the umbrella with Yamamoto as they waited.

They didn't speak anymore, but Yamamoto could hear Mukuro's soft breaths, feel him nearby.

Mukuro shivered ever so slightly, and despite what he'd just seen, it made Yamamoto want to put an arm around him, hold him a little closer, tell him it didn't have to be like this. He could change if he wanted to.

But Yamamoto did nothing.

He knew Mukuro didn't want to.

* * *

Mukuro was still wet, but warmer now that he'd had a chance to bathe. Reborn had been certain that the Vongola family would take care of the mess that had been made, get what information they could from the corpse. Mukuro got to sit here, safe and sound in Tsunayoshi's house, and wait to see if they would deign to share any of that information with him.

He was tired, like he had been since he was taken out of prison, that unrelenting exhaustion that made him want to sleep forever. But once again, he couldn't sleep.

His head hurt. It was no simple headache. That he could deal with easily. This was a sharp throbbing pain that intensified whenever he moved his head. Or opened his eyes. Or thought anything beyond a dull wish for the pain to be gone.

Mukuro knew the moment that it had started. It had been that one instant when he'd seen that man running toward him, knife in his hand, and he'd instinctively reached for his power, his illusions, to protect himself. Instead, crippling pain had bloomed in his eye and temple.

It had been luck that kept him alive. He'd stumbled back, raising a hand to his head. Mukuro, who had killed so many and lived through so much, was saved only because he'd happened to raise the hand holding his umbrella. The man's knife caught on it, avoided Mukuro.

It had only been luck.

After that first blinding flash of agony, the pain had ebbed enough so he could think a little, so he could push the off-balance man into a window. He'd finished off the threat, called the Vongolas as he was supposed to, talked to Yamamoto - all of it now a pain-filled blur, though at the time he'd been alert enough. The only things that stood out were Yamamoto's eyes full of sorrow and disapproval. He'd tried to act as normal as possible, hide his weakness.

He thought he'd managed to. Yamamoto hadn't reacted, at least. Pain didn't bother Mukuro as badly as it did some illusionists, thanks to a childhood of painful experiments. And it had gotten less intense - bit by bit.

But it had made Mukuro realize one thing.

He was not getting better.

He had been exhausted since he came to Sawada Tsunayoshi's house. He'd assumed that it was from his confinement, that his physical strength would return even if his powers didn't. But he'd been there for three weeks now, sleeping in nearly every free moment he had (for what else was there to do?), and he was still as exhausted as he had been when he arrived.

More, now. The pain in his head was sapping his strength, leaving him weaker than before, unable to concentrate or even rest.

Something else was going on, and he was certain it was because of this supposed seal on his eye. But Ken and Chikusa hadn't yet contacted him, so he had no information at all. He couldn't even begin to do anything.

And for now, he couldn't even think. All he could do was lay on a borrowed futon, stare at the darkness behind his eyelids, and wait for the pain to go away.

He would make someone pay for this eventually. He promised himself that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Five**

**by Asael  
**

The next morning, Mukuro's headache was almost gone.

It still lingered around the edges, sending a spike of pain through his skill if he turned his head too fast or the lights were too bright, but it was livable. He could handle it.

He stayed home from school anyway, mostly at Tsuna's request. Reborn's, really, since the Arcobaleno preferred that Mukuro lay low until they found out what they could from the body that had been left behind.

Mukuro didn't mind too much. His headache might be better, more or less, but he was far from being in top shape. He was still exhausted, and if anything it had gotten worse. If he moved too quickly he got dizzy, and he simply had no energy at all. If he went to school he'd only sleep the whole day, and if he were going to do that, it was much more comfortable here.

Tsuna's mother checked on him from time to time, which Mukuro found strange and somewhat annoying. It wasn't as if he were going to die, after all, and he really didn't need to be constantly supplied with snacks. At least the children, the young Thunder Guardian and the Chinese girl, knew enough to leave him alone (though he could hear them making noise downstairs).

Finally, she woke Mukuro from a light nap to tell him they were going to the store. Mukuro assured her that he'd be fine, though it was unclear why she was asking - perhaps she really was worried that he'd drop dead if she didn't keep his glass of water properly filled.

After Tsuna's mother and the children were gone, Mukuro wearily dug out his phone. It was even more important to check in with Ken and Chikusa now, learn what they'd found - if they'd found anything at all. They had to be extremely careful when it came to investigating the mafia prison - after all, they were technically still escaped prisoners, even if the Vongola had discouraged further pursuit of them.

Ken had gotten a phone from somewhere, and this was what Mukuro called. He apparently felt it was necessary to shout into the phone so that Mukuro could hear him, though, so Mukuro was forced to hold it some inches from his ear. His head throbbed.

"Mukuro-san!" Ken shouted, sounding cheerful, happy to hear from him. It made Mukuro smile just a little, despite his weariness.

"Ken," Mukuro said, "we shouldn't talk long. Have you and Chikusa found anything?" He could hear the static, proof of an overseas connection, and wasn't sure how long they'd be able to keep talking. And of course, he couldn't be certain they were in a secure location, either.

"Not really," Ken said, somehow managing to sound energetic and discouraged at the same time. "I mean, we were looking for the guy who did that whole thing to you, but you know those fuckers always keep their identity secret. I think we've got a lead, though. Chikusa found a guy who says he knows a guy."

"Language," Mukuro reminded, not that he really cared. "I suppose it really hasn't been long enough for actual results." They'd always been focused on breaking out of the prison, guards and defenses and timetables. Its inner workings were only relevant if they'd impede that. Now things were different, so of course it would take time.

But he was so tired.

Ken was talking again. "Things are cool there, right? No more broken bones?" There was a snarl underneath his voice that amused Mukuro. Surely Ken would protect him from the terrifying and vicious Hibari Kyoya if he could.

"Don't worry," Mukuro said, "I'm perfectly fine." He did not even consider telling Ken the truth. He didn't need to know. There was nothing he could do, after all, and Ken was much too excitable. If he and Chikusa knew, they would undoubtedly be rushed and careless with the job Mukuro had given them, and he certainly couldn't have that.

He wouldn't tell the Vongola, either. There was just as little they could - or would - do, and Mukuro would not show them even more weakness than he already had. The very thought disgusted him.

"That's good!" Ken said. "Those mafia bastards can't be trusted, so watch your back, okay Mukuro-san?"

Mukuro laughed. "And you watch yours, Ken. Tell Chikusa to bring me back some gianduiotti when you're finished."

"Will do!" Ken said, good spirits regained. "Talk to you later, Mukuro-sama."

"Yes," Mukuro said. "Goodbye."

He put his phone away and lay back. It really hadn't been enough time for Ken and Chikusa to have found anything, but he'd had some hope, and considering his worsening condition he'd had to ask. Still, Mukuro felt no disappointment, only acceptance that he'd have to wait.

Somewhere in the back of his mind was a voice he was trying to ignore, a voice that said keeping his failing strength a secret from the Vongola family was a bad idea. Tsuna had taken him in, was trying to protect him. It wasn't entirely impossible that he would be willing to help with this - whatever was going on.

But that was part of the problem. Mukuro didn't really know what was going on, only that he was getting weaker. What could Sawada Tsunayoshi do? And why would Mukuro want to look even more pathetic than he already did, put himself in even more debt to the mafia that he hated?

Fed up with the world, Mukuro turned his back to the small room's window and pulled his blanket over his head, resolving not to listen to that voice, not to think such stupid things.

He fell asleep almost immediately.

* * *

Yamamoto found it almost impossible to pay any attention in class today.

Not that he was normally a great student or anything - his grades were generally just barely good enough for him to pass, thanks to Gokudera's occasional irritated tutoring - but he usually at least attempted to pay attention, even if he didn't understand.

Today all he could think about was the night before.

He kept seeing Mukuro in his mind, Mukuro sliding the knife across that man's throat, the rush of red and the body falling to the ground. Mukuro standing over the dead man without an ounce of regret in his eyes.

The thing was, Yamamoto liked Mukuro. He liked him a lot. Mukuro was funny, and smart, and calm despite his strangeness. He never cared if Yamamoto was late for lunch or if Yamamoto said something stupid. He'd just laugh. Sometimes he said odd things, things Yamamoto didn't really understand, and sometimes he barely seemed to be paying any attention when they talked. But he was friendly, he was pretty, and Yamamoto was getting to be sure he'd be a great kisser.

He just found it impossible to understand some parts of Mukuro.

Yamamoto was broken from his thoughts when Gokudera's hand slammed down on his desk.

"Hey!" Gokudera said angrily, "class is over. What's wrong with you?"

Yamamoto realized that was in fact true, that most of the students had left the classroom to go talk with their friends in other classes or to just wander the halls. He laughed. "Guess I spaced out a little."

"The Tenth told me you and that Mukuro got attacked last night. Did you get hit in the head or something?" Gokudera said with a frown.

As usual, it was hard to tell whether Gokudera was actually concerned or just insulting Yamamoto. It made him smile. "Nah, nothing like that. It was just a weird night."

Gokudera looked at him for a minute, still frowning. "Did Mukuro do something? You can't trust him, you know. He still wants to steal Tsuna's body. So whatever stuff he does, don't let it get to you. That's what he wants."

Yamamoto had heard this before. Gokudera didn't trust Mukuro at all, and he made no secret of it. And maybe it was true. Maybe Mukuro really was spending his time plotting against them. Yamamoto didn't think so, but he couldn't attribute that to anything but the way Mukuro acted, and according to Gokudera Mukuro was perfectly capable of tricking them all.

Yamamoto generally listened to Gokudera, even if he didn't always agree with what the Storm Guardian said. He liked Gokudera - a lot, even if Gokudera refused to return that. Gokudera was special, in a way. He was, after all, the first person Yamamoto had ever killed for.

It hadn't been so long ago. Some family in Italy, gunning for the Vongola, had sent assassins to Japan to dispose of its heir. Needless to say, Gokudera refused to allow that to happen, and had thrown himself into the fight with his usual passion. Yamamoto didn't remember the whole thing very clearly, and he thought he might prefer it that way. He just remembered that it had come down to a split second decision between Gokudera's death or an enemy's. He'd made the choice without thinking.

They'd never spoken of it, but Yamamoto thought it had changed things between them, though he couldn't quite pinpoint how. Maybe it was the way Gokudera looked at him, or maybe it was the way that now, when Yamamoto dreamed of Gokudera, it wasn't the hormone-filled teenage dreams he'd gotten used to. It was dreams of blood and death and Gokudera watching.

Yamamoto would have preferred the old dreams, as embarrassing as they were sometimes.

Still, no matter what had happened, Gokudera was important to him. It was just that Mukuro was becoming important in his own way, as well. He was easy to be with because there was no baggage there. Just simple friendship, Yamamoto thought, or something kind of like it.

"He didn't do anything strange," Yamamoto said, smiling. It had bothered him - it still did - but he knew that something like that really wasn't strange for Mukuro.

Gokudera looked at him suspiciously. "But you guys did get in a fight, didn't you? Nobody got hurt?"

Yamamoto could never tell what Gokudera was thinking when he said things like that. Was he concerned or just suspicious? It was easier not worry about it. "Yeah, we did. Both of us are fine, and Mukuro took out one of the other guys."

"'Took out'?" Gokudera said, staring. "But he can't use that eye of his anymore, right?" His eyes narrowed a little, as if he'd had something confirmed.

"No, no," Yamamoto hastened to reassure him, or to reassert Mukuro's innocence - he wasn't sure himself. "He didn't use his powers at all, it was just..." Well, he wasn't sure what it had been. Mukuro had proven that he wasn't helpless without using his powers at all, he thought, but Yamamoto hadn't actually seen what happened.

The line between Gokudera's eyebrows lightened a bit as his glare lessened. "So he can still fight, then. Seems stupid to have us guarding him if he can take care of himself fine." His suspicion was mostly gone, replaced by good old Gokudera-style grouchiness.

Yamamoto didn't bother mentioning that Gokudera really hadn't guarded Mukuro at all. He himself didn't mind it, it was even fun a lot of the time. And even if Mukuro could fight, without his powers he wouldn't stand much of a chance against anything but a thug like the ones who had attacked them. He wasn't a normal guy - that was impossible - but he'd lost his special advantages.

For a moment, Yamamoto saw Mukuro the way he thought Gokudera might. Powerless, but not helpless. A convicted murderer set loose. Even if he couldn't use his illusions or possess anyone, weren't there plenty of people who murdered and ruined lives without ever having any special abilities at all? Mukuro had already proven that he didn't care about hurting people, killing them.

But Yamamoto knew the mafia better now, and he knew that Mukuro understood it much more deeply than he did. He thought Mukuro was very aware that without any special advantage, he would be quickly killed if he tried to act out. In the normal world, Mukuro was dangerous, a murderer who could defend himself and who wouldn't hesitate. In the mafia world, Mukuro was barely even a threat anymore.

They did need to protect him, because it wasn't anyone in the normal world who would be coming after Mukuro.

"Yeah, I guess he can fight..." Yamamoto was trying to figure out how to voice his thoughts, how to make Gokudera understand. He wasn't great with words. But there was a step behind them, and Gokudera turned a little to look.

His eyes widened, and Yamamoto turned to see Hibari there, sharp eyes watching them both.

"Mukuro fought," Hibari said. It wasn't a question. He had heard them talking, Yamamoto didn't know how much. He didn't know why it would matter, either.

"Yeah, we both got attacked-" Yamamoto said, starting to explain with a smile, but Hibari just fixed him with a harsh glare and strode from the room, leaving terrified students in his wake.

He exchanged confused glances with Gokudera. What had that been about?

* * *

When he got home from school that day, Tsuna took a deep breath, ignored his homework, and went to go talk to Mukuro.

He knocked on the door of the spare room and waited. When Mukuro finally answered, he looked like he'd just woken up, though his eyes were bright. Tsuna was glad he hadn't just gone in - he didn't really want to see how Mukuro would react if woken up unexpectedly.

"Um, hi..." Tsuna said, wondering if this had been a good idea in the first place. Talking to Mukuro was always a little uncomfortable for him. "Can I talk to you?"

Mukuro raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but stepped back from the door so Tsuna could enter if he wished. "Yes, I suppose you can. Is this about the attack last night?"

Tsuna winced to think of that. He understood what had happened, he understood that Mukuro had killed out of self-defense. He also wasn't that stupid, he knew Mukuro didn't care about lives and... and human mercy as much as Tsuna did.

It didn't change how he felt. He had never wanted anyone to have to kill because of him, but it had happened anyway. He still remembered every time, every person. There hadn't been that many - because he was still young, according to Reborn, and because he tried to keep it from happening. But that didn't mean he had succeeded.

Yamamoto had killed three people, Tsuna knew. He had been there for each death, and he knew that each one had been done in defense of someone - not that that made it better or easier for Yamamoto. He still remembered how sick Yamamoto had looked for weeks after the first one, even though he smiled as he always had.

Gokudera had killed two - though Tsuna was certain they weren't his first kills. That bothered him too, that made him uncomfortable when he thought about it. But it was almost certainly true, since Gokudera had seemed unhappy but nowhere near as upset as Yamamoto had. Tsuna hadn't yet found the guts to ask him directly, though.

Ryohei, so far, had kept his hands clean. Lambo had as well, of course, and Tsuna hoped that he would for a long, long time.

Hibari... Tsuna didn't know if he had ever actually killed anyone in his normal life. Despite his threats, he tended to beat people into unconsciousness rather than actually kill them. Once he had started to become part of the mafia world, though, he had blended in easily - Tsuna didn't really know how many people he might have killed, because Hibari hated crowds and would fight alone rather than alongside them. But he had seen with his own eyes at least two definite deaths.

Every one of them weighed on him. He didn't want this, he didn't want his friends learning how to kill people before they'd even graduated from high school. But what could he do? None of them wanted to die, either, and it had started to become slowly more obvious that that was the choice they had. Learn how to kill, or be killed themselves.

The only consolation Tsuna had was his determination to change the mafia world, and his belief that killing hurt his friends each time they had to do it. For Yamamoto and Gokudera, he knew it was true. For Hibari, he wasn't sure - but he thought even Hibari was reluctant, choosing to injure first.

For Mukuro, on the other hand, he knew it _wasn't_ true. Mukuro had killed so many people, and he had done it before Tsuna had ever learned of the mafia, before Yamamoto picked up a sword, before even Gokudera did anything more violent than play the piano. Mukuro didn't care anymore, if he ever had. Tsuna had always known that, Reborn had always told him Mukuro wasn't like them - but he hadn't had to face it, not until Yamamoto told him how easily Mukuro had murdered a man.

He didn't want that. The mafia world wasn't all bad. The bonds of family, friendship, the amazing things he'd seen - Tsuna knew it wasn't all bad. But how could he see it without wanting to change it? How could he know about what happened to people, children, innocents like Mukuro had been, and not want to do something about it?

Lifting his chin and taking a deep breath, Tsuna managed to meet Mukuro's eyes. With both blue, instead of mismatched red and blue, it was easier than it had been before. "It's not about that." His voice wavered only a little. "I want you to trust me, Mukuro. I don't want you to treat me like your enemy."

There was a flicker of surprise in Mukuro's eyes that disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. He smiled. "Don't you think I trust you, Tsunayoshi? I'm living here at your house, after all."

"But you're just staying because you have to, right?" Tsuna wasn't sure of what he was saying. He just wanted to reach out, show Mukuro that life didn't always have to be the way he was thinking of it, even mafia life. "You didn't become my Guardian because you wanted to, either."

"On the contrary," Mukuro said, not losing that condescending smile, "I absolutely wanted to. What better way to get close, claim your body, achieve my goals? It's not working out as well as I'd hoped, of course, but it was a good plan."

Tsuna knew that wasn't true, no matter what Mukuro said. Maybe Mukuro did want that - it scared Tsuna a little, but he knew it was possible. But the main reason he'd agreed was to save Chikusa and Ken, not for self-serving reasons at all. They could understand each other, if they tried. If Mukuro trusted him.

"Mukuro..." Tsuna gulped some air, determined to change the subject from Mukuro's plans to his own. "Listen to me, okay? I want to change the mafia."

Mukuro laughed, and Tsuna felt his shoulders hunch a little. "And how will you do that, young Vongola? Do you have a plan for this? Even if you did, it's not that easy. Their way of life is too old and too embedded to be changed by a young upstart like you." He looked confident, amused, utterly condescending.

For a moment, Tsuna felt a hot spike of irritation that drove away the unease and nervousness. He met Mukuro's eyes again. "It's not impossible. People can change, if they choose to. I can change things, if I try. People aren't all bad, not even in the mafia."

As he said it, he realized that he truly believed that. Tsuna knew that the families of the mafia were not kind or good, he knew that they were out for themselves before anyone else. But he also knew that they weren't all bad. What about Dino, or the Ninth Vongola head? What about Basil? And as much as he hated to think of his friends as mafia, what about them? Yamamoto, Ryohei, Gokudera... they were all good people, kind people, even if Gokudera tried to hide it.

The institution itself might be bloodstained and cruel, but not all the people who were part of it were. Some of them probably were beyond help, but Tsuna_ knew _that wasn't the case for everyone. And if the Vongola family was going to fall into his hands, why couldn't he start there? Why couldn't he make it a good place, even among all the darkness? Maybe if he did that, it would change people's minds. Maybe if he did that it would start to change the rest of the mafia.

It might never be perfect, but it could be a better place, a place that wouldn't create people like Mukuro or Xanxus or any of the other people who held their hate so closely to their hearts.

Tsuna looked at Mukuro, looked into his eyes, and realized something else.

"But you don't believe that - no, you won't believe that," he said slowly. He felt - sad, felt a strange pity for Mukuro that had nothing to do with the Mist Guardian's current weakness.

He knew that Mukuro wasn't all bad, but Tsuna had to admit that he had no idea if it was even possible for Mukuro to start trusting people the way Tsuna wanted him to. Even if he remained powerless forever, could never hurt anyone again, would he ever believe that people were worth anything? Or would he spend the rest of his life regretting that he'd never been able to go through on his ultimate plan to remake the world?

It wasn't the kind of life Tsuna wanted for anyone.

He had read once that even horribly abused, aggressive dogs could be rehabilitated if you were careful and kind, if you took the time to do it. They could be taught to love and trust even after being beaten and trained to attack. But Mukuro wasn't a dog - Tsuna knew it was impossible for him to change unless he chose to do it himself.

Tsuna didn't think he would choose to do that, and that was what made him feel that strange pity.

Mukuro's eyes narrowed, as if he could tell what Tsuna was feeling, as if he hated being thought about that way. Then he smiled, a casual razor-thin smile. "Of course I wouldn't believe such a thing. Oh, there are good people in this world, but they're easily misled. Good intentions, and all that. Even the ones who hold on to their beliefs don't usually have the strength to back them up, and if they do, their efforts will be undone by the next person to come along with a black enough heart. Your dreams are very nice, I'm sure, but they're dreams." He shrugged casually. "Is that all you wanted to talk to me about?"

Tsuna had opened his mouth, unsure of what he would say, when the phone in his pocket beeped to let him know he had a text message. He was grateful for the interruption, mostly because he had no idea how to make Mukuro think about the things he'd said, and when he saw the message he smiled. He'd forgotten for a moment that there were some things, some people that Mukuro trusted - even if it were only a little.

"Gokudera says that Chrome is awake," he said, and glanced up in time to see the look of relief, quickly hidden, in Mukuro's eyes.

It made Tsuna feel just a tiny bit better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Six**

**by Asael  
**

The hospital was busy today, but Mukuro didn't care. He hardly noticed. His mind was on other things.

It wasn't that he had really been worried about Chrome. He had always known that she could create her own organs if she concentrated and used the odd power of the Vongola ring. Mukuro had known she'd manage that eventually, and he was strangely proud that it had been that soon. Perhaps it was just the idea of having an ally - someone besides Tsuna's little coterie, someone who knew him as well as she did.

Once again, the room was being guarded by Gokudera, but this time Ryohei was there as well, sporting a big grin. Mukuro smiled slightly in return, and Tsuna (who of course had come along, always worried about things he shouldn't be) started asking questions about how Chrome was doing, when she'd woken up.

Mukuro ignored the answers and slipped into the quiet hospital room. No one made a move to stop him, which he appreciated, since he really didn't have the energy to argue with them right now. Chrome was there, sitting upright in bed with pillows supporting her. She looked about as tired as Mukuro felt, but she was no longer attached to the machines that had previously been keeping her alive.

When he came in, she was looking at the flowers one of Tsuna's female friends had brought her. She turned when she heard his footsteps, eyes widening just a little. Chrome's emotions were difficult for most to read, Mukuro knew, but it had always been as easy to him as understanding his own. Even now, with their connection broken, he could clearly see the mingled fear, sadness, and relief written across her face when she saw him.

"My Chrome, you're finally awake," he said with an easy smile, and she only said, "Mukuro-sama," in her soft voice.

Mukuro walked closer and sat on the edge of the bed, and knew from the surprised look in her eyes that she saw his weakness. Not all of it, not the bone-deep weariness that made the world spin when he moved, that increased with every step he took - that at least he could still hide, if barely. But she saw more than the others.

It wasn't a surprise to him. They had been almost the same person sometimes, before.

"Mukuro-sama, what happened?" Chrome asked, worry clear in the set of her mouth.

He smiled again, and told her of the loss of his powers, told her what little he knew. If she regained enough strength to use her illusions freely, Chrome would be a valuable resource to him. Even if she didn't, it would be good to have someone he knew was on his side.

She listened quietly, and if she realized he wasn't telling her the truth about the depth of his weakness, she didn't let it show. After he was finished, she bit her lip and asked, "But they've been kind to you?" Her eyes, like Ken's, went to his arm.

Mukuro had almost forgotten about that. It was an inconvenience, yes, but much less of one than this weariness and less painful than his headache. And his broken wrist, at least, he had no doubts about the origin of. It was actually somewhat comforting, and he smiled at Chrome. "They've been very kind."

"I'll do what I can to help you," she said, voice quiet but determined. "I'm not well yet either, but with this ring I might be able to fight when I am."

His eyes fell to the Vongola ring. So Chrome had felt its power as well. That was good. With her current strength, she knew that she could do little more than keep herself alive and awake. If she learned how to use the power of the ring, however, she could do much more - and it seemed as if that would become necessary soon.

"Good," Mukuro said. "Do what you can, my Chrome." He knew she understood.

There was a comfortable silence between them until Chrome spoke again. "You're free now." Her voice was subdued but hopeful, and she smiled a tiny smile.

"I'm free," Mukuro said, and smiled back, but the words meant nothing.

* * *

The next day, Mukuro woke feeling better. Perhaps it was because he'd been told that Chrome would be leaving the hospital soon, but Mukuro knew it was more likely that it had simply taken his body some time to recover from whatever backlash he'd suffered during that fight.

He was still tired, just not utterly exhausted anymore. Reborn said that he should return to school so the teachers wouldn't become suspicious, and Mukuro agreed, though he was rather certain that it was really because Reborn had something to do today and didn't want to be stuck at the Sawada home serving as an interim guard for Mukuro, as he had been the day before.

Either way, Mukuro went to school, accompanied by Tsunayoshi. The boy was quiet, but rather more friendly than he'd been before, and Mukuro wondered if Tsuna felt more sympathetic because of his visit with Chrome. The Vongola heir was too easily swayed.

By the time Mukuro reached his classroom and sat down, he was beginning to think this had been a bad idea. If he hadn't been able to sit down, he wasn't entirely sure he would have been capable of remaining upright. It was true that he no longer felt like he might fall asleep any second - instead, he felt like he might collapse or pass out.

It was not a feeling Mukuro liked. He'd hated this powerlessness, this weakness, from the beginning, but at least he'd been in control of his own body at first. Now, he felt as weak as a kitten and inches away from losing consciousness - which would be extremely embarrassing, and would definitely alert Tsuna and his goons to Mukuro's declining condition.

He ignored the few students who tentatively tried to speak to him, instead focusing on trying to make it through this day. He had to think of some kind of solution, because there was no way this could last, but he couldn't manage it right now. _I have truly become pathetic_, Mukuro thought, and smiled a twisted little smile.

When his class filed downstairs to gym class, Mukuro slipped away. He generally didn't participate anyway, as it was ridiculous, and he knew that today it would quite simply be impossible for him. He didn't even feel up to his usual lies and arguments with the teacher, as entertaining as they were.

He couldn't stay in the classroom. Instead, Mukuro found one of the supply storage rooms and went inside. It was dark and crowded with boxes of paper and pens, maps, and various other pieces of educational detritus - perfect, really. Mukuro's legs were going weak beneath him, and he supported himself on one of the tall stacks of boxes.

The dim lightbulb above him flickered and went on. Mukuro turned in time to see the door swing shut behind one Hibari Kyoya, and cursed himself and his weakness. He hadn't even heard the door open. If he had been in the mafia world, instead of playing pretend-normal with Tsunayoshi and his friends, he'd be dead a hundred times over by now. It was disgusting.

Maybe he'd be dead now. The look in Hibari's eyes was not kind, was not even cool neutrality. It looked as though whatever fragile truce they'd had because of Mukuro's powerlessness was over. Mukuro wished that it had come at a better time - he might have been able to enjoy it if it had.

"Kyoya," Mukuro said, and smiled. He wouldn't show his weakness to Hibari, not when he was sure that Hibari was looking for it. Hibari's eyes narrowed as he looked Mukuro over, and Mukuro wondered if he could see the extent of what Mukuro was hiding.

"You fought," Hibari said, coming nearer, and Mukuro couldn't help laughing. That was it? Hibari was angry because of an accidental fight, because Mukuro did something to keep himself alive?

"Not really," Mukuro said when Hibari's mouth thinned in displeasure and he realized he ought to respond. "I don't think anyone could really call that 'fighting'." He didn't know what Hibari had been told, but Mukuro was fairly sure that he'd come to his own conclusions based on that - presumably just assuming that Mukuro had done whatever would irritate him most.

Mukuro just hoped he'd be able to keep himself together until he could convince Hibari to leave. On one hand, it wouldn't be so bad if it were Hibari who saw his weakness - the boy was not prone to the pity that was so common among Tsunayoshi's friends. On the other, Mukuro didn't know what he would do if he saw contempt in the eyes of one who'd always looked at him with challenge before. That would be falling too far.

He shouldn't care what Hibari Kyoya thought of him but, inexplicably, he did.

Or perhaps not that inexplicably, Mukuro thought when he met Hibari's angry eyes.

"So you were lying," Hibari said, "is that it?" He took another step towards Mukuro, and Mukuro wondered if he'd end up with two broken wrists. He imagined being bitten to death was not quite as sexy as Mukuro might hope.

"I wasn't," Mukuro said, thankful for the stacks of boxes behind him. His knees were almost too weak to support him, and while he wished he could attribute that to Hibari's proximity, he knew that wasn't the case. "It was a fluke, an accident. I killed someone, but I doubt anyone could really say that I fought."

Hibari looked at him, clearly trying to decide whether to believe him or not. "You're a liar, but this time you might be telling the truth," he finally said, and stepped back slightly. "If you could fight-"

"Naturally I'd fight you," Mukuro drawled mockingly. He knew he was overdoing it a little, but he felt lightheaded. Was the room getting darker? He needed to get Hibari out of there.

For a moment, Hibari's eyes searched his face. His frown got deeper, but Mukuro almost thought he saw confusion in those gray eyes.

"Good," Hibari said abruptly, breaking whatever spell they'd found themselves under for a moment there. He turned on his heel, walking to the door. "You're worthless now, but you owe me a fight." He looked back at Mukuro. "And then I'll bite you to death."

Mukuro managed a smile in return, but from the strange look in Hibari's eyes he feared it was rather more sickly than he'd intended. The world was spinning, and he wasn't sure he'd sound at all normal if he tried to speak.

Finally, finally, Hibari left the supply room, door swinging shut behind him. Mukuro relaxed. He'd managed somehow, and now all he had to do was make it through the rest of the day, fix this weakness somehow, and utterly destroy whoever had done it to him.

It sounded easy, he thought, and felt his knees begin to fold. Blackness covered his vision completely. The last thing he heard before he lost consciousness was the sound of the door opening again.

* * *

He woke in the school infirmary.

His head and his arm both ached again, and he wondered distantly if he'd hit them when he fell. Looking around, the infirmary was empty - except for Yamamoto Takeshi, smiling and sitting on a folding chair next to the bed Mukuro had been placed on.

"Hey," Yamamoto said, grin widening when he realized Mukuro was awake, "you okay?"

"I'm fine," Mukuro said out of reflex. He wasn't fine, not even a little, and he'd known that the moment he woke up. His head ached, his arm itched, and his limbs felt too heavy to move. He wanted to close his eyes again and sleep for a million years. Maybe he'd turn to dust - that wouldn't be so bad.

"Good! I was really worried when Dr. Shamal told us you were here." Yamamoto's eyes were indeed dark with worry, and the way he looked at Mukuro gave Mukuro a sharp instant of insight - but he didn't have time to think about it, because Yamamoto was still talking. "I'm gonna help you get back to Tsuna's house, but he said he wanted to talk to you first. I'll wait outside, okay? If you don't think you can make it make, I'll call my dad for a ride."

"I can walk," Mukuro said with a smile. He'd manage it, even if the only thing keeping him upright was sheer willpower. He couldn't let himself be that weak.

Yamamoto relaxed a little and stood up. "Then I'll go get Tsuna." He returned Mukuro's smile and left the infirmary, Mukuro watching him go.

Yamamoto was a strange boy, he thought, and then focused his thoughts and strength on whatever the Vongola heir might say to him.

* * *

Leaving the infirmary, Yamamoto smiled and nodded at Tsuna, who was standing outside the doors with Gokudera. "He's awake, you can go on in."

Tsuna smiled back, a shaky little grin, and went in. Tsuna had really changed a lot, Yamamoto thought to himself, but deep down inside he was the same old Tsuna. He didn't have anything to worry about from Mukuro, though, not right now - Mukuro had looked so pale and weak. He wondered why they hadn't noticed anything sooner.

Yamamoto felt eyes on him and looked over, catching Gokudera's gaze and responding with a grin. Unsurprisingly, Gokudera scowled back, but this didn't feel like his usual grouchy nature. Was he actually angry?

"Hey, what's wrong?" Yamamoto asked, and though his smile didn't slip at all, he felt more worry creeping up on him.

Gokudera's scowl got angrier. "Nothing," he said, which meant for sure that there really was something. Yamamoto had learned that much, at least. The question was, did it mean "Leave me alone, I don't want to talk about it" or "I want to talk about it, so keep bothering me"?

Sometimes Yamamoto wished that Gokudera had come packaged with a cheat guide or something.

He decided not to pursue it, mainly because he didn't want to argue with Gokudera right now. The other boy had been getting more and more short-tempered recently, and Yamamoto was kind of worried. "You didn't have to leave class and come all the way down here, you know!" He grinned. "Me and Tsuna could've handled it fine."

For some reason, that just made Gokudera look even angrier. "_You_ didn't have to come down here either."

Yamamoto blinked. "But I've gotta help Mukuro get back to Tsuna's place. He's pretty weak."

"No, you don't. You could ask Ryohei to do it, he hasn't got practice today either," Gokudera said, watching him.

"But I want to help Mukuro," Yamamoto said, confused.

"Fine!" Gokudera snapped, anger and something else in his voice. "Then help him, I don't care!"

Yamamoto had no idea what was going on, but he could tell there was no way for him to win - whatever that would mean in this context. So he just laughed uncomfortably and backed off, letting Gokudera be alone.

He never liked it when Gokudera was mad at him, but these days it seemed like everything was wrong between them.

It was easier to just not think about why that was.

* * *

Mukuro saw the nervous determination on Tsuna's face when he came into the infirmary, and it was all he could do to keep from rolling his eyes. The Vongola heir desperately needed more of a backbone, or at least the ability to hide his feelings better.

"Mukuro," he said, walking over to stand by the chair Yamamoto had just vacated. "Are you okay?"

That seemed like a ridiculous question, just as Yamamoto's had been, empty pleasantries that were pointless when the answer was so obvious. "I'm as well as could be expected, I suppose." He smiled at Tsuna's expression. "What did you think I'd say?"

"You should've told us something was wrong," Tsuna said. "We could've helped you."

Mukuro ignored the voice in the back of his mind that said Tsuna was right, he should have revealed his weakness sooner. If nothing else, it would have been less embarrassing than collapsing at school. "I was planning to fix it before it became a problem," he said lightly - or tried to. Even he could hear the weariness in his voice. "Unfortunately, it seems like Ken and Chikusa are dragging their feet."

"You don't have to do everything on your own," Tsuna said quietly, just looking at him. "You're one of us. We'll help you."

"I'm not one of you," Mukuro said, and nothing more. He met Tsuna's eyes, too tired to argue any more than he had.

Tsuna met his eyes and bit his lip, and Mukuro saw him holding things back. He was sure that Tsuna had had one of his little lectures on friendship and sharing and being honest prepared, but it looked like the Vongola heir had realized that Mukuro didn't have the energy or interest to sit through another one. It was true, Mukuro would not have felt in the least bad about turning over and falling asleep if Tsuna had started on that track.

All he said, in the end, was, "I'm going to see if I can get Dr. Shamal to help us figure out what's going on, okay? Yamamoto will help you get home, and then you can rest. Do you need help getting up?"

"I'm not on death's door, Tsunayoshi," Mukuro said, a slight curl to his lip. He loathed being treated like glass, even though he kind of felt like it right now. With an effort, he sat up, and then managed to stand. He was dizzy and his legs were still weak, but he could support himself and he was sure he could walk - though it might be a good idea to have Yamamoto nearby after all. Just in case.

Tsuna watched him carefully as they walked to the door, and so Mukuro made sure to show no further weakness then he already had. Outside the infirmary, both Yamamoto and Gokudera waited - Mukuro was amused for a moment at the idea that Gokudera had thought he could cause trouble for Tsuna in this state, but he quickly realized the real reason. Yamamoto crossed the hall to Mukuro and smiled at him, and it didn't take a genius to see the jealousy in Gokudera's eyes.

That on its own was rather amusing too, but Mukuro really didn't have the energy to enjoy it or to needle Gokudera. The fact of the matter was that he did need Yamamoto's help, on the nearly unthinkable chance that he collapsed again on the way back to Tsuna's home. It was a sad day when Mukuro had to ignore things like that - but he had enough difficulty walking that he didn't want to focus on much else.

The four of them parted without saying much of anything, just some chatter between Yamamoto and Tsuna about getting home safely. Gokudera had, apparently, only come to see what would happen. Mukuro couldn't help wondering if he were the kind of person who poked a sore tooth just to see if it still hurt. Why else would he go out of his way to see something he knew he wouldn't like?

The walk home was more difficult that Mukuro wanted it to be. Though he'd walked the same path plenty of times already, it felt longer and harder than ever before. Yamamoto walked with him, matching his irritatingly slow pace, and kept up a stream of one-sided conversation that Mukuro actually found somewhat comforting. He wasn't even pretending to pay attention, of course, but it was strangely kind of Yamamoto to act as if Mukuro wasn't in such a sad state.

Mukuro's mind flashed back to his realization in the infirmary, and he thought of how disappointed Tsuna would have been. Not about Yamamoto's feelings for Mukuro (and him not realizing before could only be chalked up to this sickness, or whatever it was) - no, while Tsuna might have been confused, he doubted the boy would have been disappointed.

But if he'd known that Mukuro's first thought had been, _How can I use this_?... well, the Vongola heir might have given up on redeeming Mukuro. He valued his friends so much.

The oddest part was that even Mukuro felt a little bad about thinking that.

He didn't have the energy for introspection at the moment, though. He didn't have the energy for much of anything.

Somehow, Mukuro made it to Tsuna's house. He bid farewell to Yamamoto at the gate, noting once again the concern written across the Rain Guardian's features, and dragged himself inside. One foot in front of the other. It wasn't so hard, and if he kept telling himself that it just might come true.

Up the stairs and to the spare room he'd been given. Tsuna's mother was out, thankfully, and the children with her. Mukuro felt his legs shaking as he finally made it to the room, and he didn't even bother to undress before unfolding the futon and laying down - he wasn't sure if he'd have been able to stay upright for even one more minute.

He didn't have time to assess his energy reserves, make himself comfortable, or even think. The moment Mukuro's head hit the pillow, darkness swallowed him.

Mukuro slept.


	7. Chapter 7

**Ordinary World**

**Chapter Seven**

**by Asael**

Tsuna sat on the edge of his bed, watching Reborn sleep in that weird little hammock he liked to use. He envied the baby's ability to fall asleep instantly anywhere. Everyone else was definitely asleep by now too, but Tsuna often found it hard to fall asleep these days, head full of worries about his friends or the mafia or school or, more often now, what in the world he was going to do with Mukuro.

After Mukuro's collapse earlier that day, it was obvious he hadn't come to trust them at all. It frustrated Tsuna. He didn't know what to do anymore. It wasn't that it surprised him, not really - Mukuro didn't have much experience trusting people, as far as Tsuna knew. It was more that, despite Mukuro's attitude and occasionally questionable morals, Tsuna still felt like he deserved a chance from _someone_. He hadn't forgotten the vision of Mukuro in Vindice that he'd once had.

But Mukuro seemed to do everything he could to keep distance between himself and everyone else, no matter what Tsuna - and others - might want.

He sighed and laid down, making himself comfortable. He'd talk to Dr. Shamal in the morning - maybe take him to see Chrome, that might help. What else could he do?

Even with that in mind, Tsuna expected to toss and turn for hours. He closed his eyes.

Within seconds, he was asleep.

* * *

Tsuna dreamed.

He was in his room still, but Reborn was gone and the sky outside wasn't dark. Sitting at his desk across the room, writing furiously, was Mukuro. Tsuna sat up, letting the blanket fall from him, and padded across the room to look over his shoulder.

Mukuro was writing in Italian, but it was as clear as day to Tsuna nonetheless. It was all plans, maps, ideas - a path to his goals, the destruction of the mafia and the plunging of the world into war.

Mukuro laughed, turned the chair to look at Tsuna. His eyes were bright, his face more full of life that Tsuna had seen it before. "Don't you see?" he said, smiling angelically. "This is who I am."

"No," said Tsuna. "Can't you change? Do you really want that?"

"Change, change, change... it's always the same thing from you silly Vongolas. Why do I have to be the one to change? Why don't you do it?" Raising his hand, Mukuro touched Tsuna's cheek, just the barest brush of fingertips. "I can't change if I don't want to. And you can't change the world just by being nice, Tsunayoshi." His voice dropped to a whisper, imparting a precious secret to Tsuna. "It takes blood."

Tsuna felt wetness on his cheek, saw the blood dripping from Mukuro's hand. He stepped back and caught sight of himself in the mirror above his dresser, Mukuro's bloody fingerprints on his cheek.

"It'll be your fault too, you realize," Mukuro said. "It would be so easy... so easy to make you think I've changed. And then the lives I took would be on your hands too. Do you think they'd forgive you for releasing a rabid dog?"

"You're not a rabid dog," Tsuna said. He looked at the paper Mukuro had been writing on before, but it was incomprehensible now, just scribbles and scratches. "You're a human."

"Really? Would the guards at Vindice agree? Or you could ask any of the families I've murdered," Mukuro said. He laughed, his eyes on Tsuna - not blue and blue, the colors Tsuna had gotten used to so quickly, but red and blue. "Of course, you can't. Silly me. They're all dead. How would you explain it to the community, setting a killer free? And how could you possibly think that a normal life like yours could replace the thrill, the satisfaction of killing? You're so adorably naive."

His laugh was wilder, harsher than Tsuna remembered it being. "Your idealism is just what I need, Tsunayoshi." He was close again, his hand tracing Tsuna's neck, and Tsuna hadn't felt so vulnerable in a long time.

"You can change," Tsuna managed to stammer out.

Mukuro leaned in close, so close his breath tickled Tsuna's ear. "I'm really getting tired of hearing that," he murmured. His hand tightened on Tsuna's throat, fingernails digging in, centimeters away from crushing Tsuna's windpipe.

Tsuna woke up gasping for air.

* * *

Yamamoto dreamed.

He was in his father's dojo, looking out at the moon over the garden. He thought it was a little strange to be dreaming about watching the moon, but who knew how dreams worked?

Yamamoto turned to Mukuro and said, "It's really bright and full tonight, isn't it? Really beautiful."

Mukuro smiled at him and filled two tiny cups full of sake. "Here. It's traditional, right?"

"I'm not old enough to drink," Yamamoto said, but he was watching the way the loose yukata fell away from Mukuro when he moved. Yamamoto reached out unconsciously, fingers inches from Mukuro's pale skin. Mukuro smiled at him.

"You can touch me. I don't mind," he said.

"You don't mind?" Yamamoto said, entranced.

"It's just a body," Mukuro said. "What do I care what happens to it?"

Yamamoto paused, looked at him. "That's not right," he said. "It's your body."

Mukuro laughed. "It's a shell, just like anyone's. In the end, we leave them behind. But you can't see it that way, can you? You'll never make a good hitman at this rate."

"I don't want to see it like that," Yamamoto said quietly.

"Yes you do," Mukuro replied. "That's why you like me so much. I can teach you how to be more like me." He pushed the small cup of sake into Yamamoto's hand. Yamamoto looked down, and it was the vile green of poison. "It's easy, really. Start by destroying everything inside yourself."

Yamamoto dropped the cup and grabbed Mukuro's thin wrist. "No! That's not why I like you! There's something about you..."

"Oh, that? Isn't that anyone's dream? There's someone you want but can't have. Maybe they don't want you, maybe they're with someone else... maybe you lost your innocence for them and neither of you can forget it." Mukuro smirked. "And then along comes someone who could, potentially, be anyone."

His laugh was cruel this time, made even more eerie by coming from Gokudera's lips. A perfect copy, with a smile on its face that Yamamoto had never and would never see from the real thing.

"You try to pretend you're such a good boy, Yamamoto, but the truth is that you want me to ease your guilt. You want it to be easy. It's not me that you want at all, not the way you want him."

"No," Yamamoto said, but he wasn't sure anymore, not while he was staring at Gokudera's familiar features.

He felt something stick in his throat, and coughed and coughed until he spat out a small gray stone, hearing it clunk against the wood. Mukuro picked it up with long fingers, his own fingers, and laughed again. "Lies will weigh you down."

He moved, pressing Yamamoto against the floor of his father's dojo. The moon was gone, but the stars had crept closer in curiosity, their strange light bright enough that Yamamoto could see the angles of Mukuro's face.

"If you want so badly for me to take your heart, I will," Mukuro murmured. His lips pressed against Yamamoto, and Yamamoto tasted the sour sweetness of a barely ripe orange. When they separated, Yamamoto felt a sharp pain in his chest and looked down. It was a bloody mess, Mukuro's slim hand tearing through skin and flesh, but it didn't hurt as much as he'd thought it would.

Mukuro's lips brushed his skin as he spoke. "I haven't got one of my own anymore, so I might as well take yours." Bones cracked as Mukuro reached further. "I've no clue what I'll use it for, though. Maybe a paperweight."

One last spike of agony stabbed through Yamamoto's body as Mukuro ripped his heart free. He looked down at the bloody hold in his chest, looked up at Mukuro and the bit of Yamamoto he had in his hand.

"You should be more careful what you do with this kind of thing," Mukuro said. "I hear some people think they're important."

He raised the heart to his lips, bit in, and started to chew.

Yamamoto watched, feeling only mild interest.

* * *

Gokudera dreamed.

He was in Italy, in the rich rooms of his father's house, a place he never wanted to return to - but this wasn't the first time he'd dreamed of it, nor would it be the last.

He walked the hallways, feet treading on thick carpets. Every once in awhile he had to move to one side to pass a body slumped on the floor or to avoid a spreading bloodstain, but he continued. There was only one place to go.

When Gokudera reached his father's office, he pushed the door open without any of the hesitation or fear he would have felt as a child. Somehow he knew what he'd find, and he did. His father, slumped over the big mahogany desk, blood from the bullet in his temple congealing on some scattered papers. His sister, her throat torn out, laying on the floor with sightless eyes gazing up toward the ceiling.

He let the door slowly swing shut behind him as he moved on.

Up the wide marble staircase, down the hall, and Gokudera arrived at another familiar door. He entered his old bedroom, and once again found exactly what he expected. Mukuro, lounging on his bed, one limp body at his feet and another crumpled on the bed behind him.

"Did you take the scenic route, Hayato?" Mukuro said lightly. "I've been waiting forever."

"This isn't real," Gokudera said.

"Sadly, you're right," Mukuro said, smiling. "But I'm sure you know that I'd like it to be. You're mafia scum, after all. I'd like nothing more than to watch you choke to death on your own blood." His tone was cheerful, conversational.

"I know that," Gokudera growled. He reached for his dynamite, burning to blast the smile off Mukuro's face, but of course it wasn't there. "Even if I'm the only one who cares anymore." He was bitter, yes, bitter that his friends accepted danger and treachery with open arms.

"It's ironic, isn't it? That same merciful quality that gave you a chance gave me one as well. The fool..." Mukuro nudged the body on the floor with the toe of his boot, and all of a sudden Gokudera realized it was Tsuna's.

"Tenth!" he shouted, and clutched his fists in impotence. _It's not real_, he reminded himself. It was just a dream, somehow he knew that even if it was so vivid, so real. It was just a dream. The real Tenth was fine, he had to remember that.

"Not like this one," Mukuro continued, stroking the hair of the corpse on the bed. "He offered himself to me freely. Romantic, don't you think?"

Gokudera tried not to look at Yamamoto's blank, lifeless face, gritting his teeth and scowling at Mukuro.

"Then again, if this were real, maybe I'd keep him." Mukuro threaded his fingers into Yamamoto's hair and lifted his head. "One can never have too many toys." He kissed Yamamoto's motionless lips grotesquely, and then he looked at Gokudera and laughed.

What else could Gokudera do? He couldn't listen to that voice anymore, couldn't look at Mukuro's smirking face. He turned and ran from the room, ran down the halls, wanting to hurt and kill but knowing he'd never be able to lay a finger on Mukuro, not here.

The mansion seemed to stretch. He wondered if he'd run forever.

* * *

Hibari dreamed.

The halls and classrooms of his school were quiet, peaceful - not full of noise and disruption as they normally were. It was relaxing to walk through these silent halls, not a sign evident of the usual herbivores who annoyed him.

Except one. Turning a corner, there he was - leaning against the wall, oh so casual, watching Hibari with those irritating mismatched eyes.

"Kyoya, so good to see you," Mukuro said with a smile.

Hibari gripped his tonfa - always with him, even in dreams. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

His opponent stood up straight, taking a step closer. "Always so cold. You could stand to be a little nicer to the man who beat you."

Hibari didn't say anything, eyes narrowed, trying to grasp that feeling of wrongness. This creature in front of him just didn't feel... right.

Mukuro reached out towards Hibari, reached to touch Hibari's cheek, and Hibari's tonfa flashed out, knocked him away. "You're not him," Hibari said, sure of that if nothing else.

"Of course I'm not,"Mukuro said, but his eyes were sharp on Hibari now. "I'm just a dream."

"Maybe you are," Hibari said as he smoothly moved his tonfa, ready to attack. "But you're not _my_ dream." And he struck, his weapons slipping through the air where Mukuro had just been.

Mukuro - or the Mukuro-shaped dream - turned and ran, and without a second thought Hibari ran too. He chased the figure through the halls of Namimori, mindful of nothing else, thoughts solely on catching Mukuro.

Ahead of him, the thing turned a corner and vanished, but Hibari didn't stop. He was sure he could still feel traces, and he knew he could catch it (and tear it to pieces, choke its life out), so he kept running - ran as he left Namimori, as the halls of the school turned to mist around him.

He'd find Mukuro and make him pay.

Hibari ran through the thick gray mist, not tiring, a predator on the hunt. At first he barely noticed as the scenery changed around him, but it became too glaring, too dangerous to ignore. He was somewhere he'd never seen before, and how was that possible in his own dream? His footsteps slowed as he surveyed his surroundings carefully.

It was some kind of lab, cold and sterile with shining steel equipment. The light was low, though, making everything look dark and murky and dirty. Hibari stepped around an operating table, noting leather straps bolted to it, stained here and there with something dark.

There was movement in a corner. He approached it without fear, tonfa at the ready, but it was nothing - just a small boy shivering, trying to hide himself in the shadows.

The boy looked up with terrified eyes at the sound of Hibari's footsteps. More like a wild animal than a human, he shrank back as if he thought Hibari would simply not see him if he hoped hard enough.

Lowering his weapons slightly, Hibari looked down at the boy. "Where is this place?" he asked, keeping his voice low and even. It would do no good to spook the child, already so frightened.

"Don't bother," a cool voice said from behind him. "He's useless."

Hibari did not enjoy being snuck up on, no matter how rarely it happened. He whirled, bringing his tonfa up again, and heard the child behind him make an incoherent, fearful noise. What he saw made him pause for a moment, though, stop himself from launching an all out attack.

It was Mukuro, the red eye made that obvious, but younger than Hibari had ever seen him. He couldn't be older than nine or ten, and he was scrawny enough that Hibari would not have been surprised to learn he was even younger than that. He looked up at Hibari with exactly the same look that his older self would, though, that infuriating blend of smug interest and boredom. His trident, held in one hand, was much taller than him.

"What are you doing here?" Hibari said. It wasn't exactly the right question, but the others all seemed wrong too. Hibari knew, though, that this wasn't the Mukuro he had been chasing before - it didn't feel_ wrong_.

"I should be the one asking you that," this young Mukuro said, and smiled in exactly the way Hibari remembered seeing so many times on the real one's face. "You're not supposed to be here."

"There's no reason for me to dream about something like you." It was true. Why would Hibari dream about this? His dreams were never so strange, were never all that memorable at all. This one was so vivid, incorporating images he'd never seen or thought of.

Mukuro laughed, now, and it was exactly the same, too. The quirks and habits of a killer in the body of a child - Hibari thought he probably ought to be more disturbed than he was. "You think this is _your_ dream?" He looked at Hibari for a moment, then shook his head with a smile. "Come with me."

For some reason, Hibari followed the boy out of the lab. It felt more like a dream now, when he couldn't quite control what he was doing - the kind of dream he'd wake up from and think, what the hell was that? He'd had those before, rarely, but occasionally with Mukuro in them, too.

He followed Mukuro down a hallway strewn with bodies. Blood decorated the walls and floor, and the boy stepped over them without a care. Hibari did so as well, and before he knew it they were somewhere else, somewhere he recognized this time. Kokuyo Health Land, the run down building where he'd first met Rokudo Mukuro.

And where he met him again. Because there was Mukuro, the real Mukuro, turning to face Hibari and the boy as they entered. This one felt right, like the boy, and looked just like the Mukuro Hibari knew, tall and arrogant and adult - or like Mukuro once had.

It wasn't until Hibari looked at this Mukuro that he realized how the one he saw nearly every day had changed. Mukuro here, in this dream, was vibrant and alive, not pale and drawn. There was no cast on his wrist, no illusionary blue eye. He was _Mukuro_, in a way that the real one wasn't quite anymore.

"Kyoya," Mukuro said with a smile, and Hibari realized the boy was gone. "How interesting to find you here."

"Why am I dreaming about you?" Hibari asked bluntly.

"Well, you're not, anymore. I'm the one dreaming about you, now." Mukuro laughed and motioned for him to sit, gesturing to a chair that Hibari was certain hadn't been there a moment before. Hibari did not sit.

"I followed you here," Hibari said, and scowled. "This is the stupidest dream I've ever had. I just keep dreaming about _you_."

"I have to say I'm flattered, Kyoya, really," Mukuro said, laughter lurking just behind his words, and Hibari tried not to think that it was actually not so bad to see Mukuro looking alive again. "You followed me all the way into my dream. If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked me." He sat down himself, getting comfortable. "But since I do know better... I'm impressed, Kyoya. You shouldn't be here at all."

Hibari was getting annoyed. Mukuro might love talking around things, but Hibari considered it a waste of time and energy. "Spit it out, or I'm leaving."

"You couldn't," Mukuro said. "You're in my dream, you can't leave until I let you go. You should be careful with this kind of thing, Kyoya. It could be dangerous if you wander into someone else's dream - someone who's not quite so fond of you as I am."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Hibari said, on the verge of losing his temper.

Mukuro seemed to realize that, and relented, though his smile pissed Hibari off just a little bit more. "Like I said, I'm impressed. You have no powers like mine, but apparently you were angry and stubborn enough to find your way into my dream. I'm sure it was just a fluke, but still - congratulations. You were chasing one of these, I assume?" He glanced down at the floor, and Hibari followed his eyes downwards.

On the floor was a copy of Mukuro, exactly like the one Hibari had seen, down to the slight feeling of wrongness. That was exacerbated by the fact that this one's neck had been neatly snapped, and it seemed to be slowly disintegrating, its edges turning misty and disappearing bit by bit.

"They're constructs sent by someone else. Another illusionist, but he wasn't as good as I am... well, as I was. As you can see." Mukuro smirked down at the body with the same face as him. "He also wasn't all that smart, sending one to attack _my_ dreams. He ought to have known another illusionist would be able to spot a construct like that in a second. And even without my powers, these are still my dreams - my territory. It's nearly impossible to beat me here."

Hibari wondered if he ought to be bothered that Mukuro had apparently found it extremely easy to murder a copy of himself. Instead, it made him smile just a tiny bit - Mukuro might be the most irritating person he knew, but even like this he was one of the strongest. Hibari badly wanted to fight him again, and wondered just how 'impossible' it might be.

"Don't get that look, Kyoya," Mukuro said with an amused smile. "You really couldn't beat me. I control everything here." That was true enough, Hibari supposed, remembering how a chair had appeared out of nowhere. He'd have to wait for his rematch in the real world. "Anyway, I'd rather talk. If a dream construct like this was sent to you as well, I wonder who else might have seen them? And not everyone is like you, I don't think they'd notice anything wrong - they'd just think they were having a particularly strange dream."

"Why?" Hibari asked, feeling some actual curiosity. What point would there be to something like that? He didn't think even Mukuro could kill someone from within their dreams.

Mukuro shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose I could have tried to torture some information out of the one I got, but constructs wouldn't offer much anyway... maybe they're trying to get information too, or scare people. Or maybe they're trying to inspire distrust." He looked at Hibari, eyes sharp. "The one you saw looked like me, too. Maybe they all did."

"Maybe we're all cursed with stupid dreams about you," Hibari said. "That really would be evil."

For a moment Mukuro looked startled, and then he laughed. "You always surprise me, Kyoya. Coming here at all... well, you really shouldn't have been able to. I'm not sure how you did it, except by pure cussed stubbornness. But you can't stay - you need to wake up. You might not remember all this, but do at least trying to remember some of it, won't you? And pass it on. Even if Tsunayoshi will have no idea what you're talking about, Reborn should. It might give him some clue to who's doing all this."

"I have no desire to speak to Sawada," Hibari said, but he guessed he'd do it anyway. Not for Mukuro, but because this whole thing made him angry. Someone who invaded his dreams ought to be torn apart by wild dogs, or bitten to death.

Mukuro seemed to understand that, and didn't say anything more about it, though he smiled a little. "I have no idea when I'll wake up. In here, I'm strong, out there - well, someone is trying to kill me very subtly, and they seem to be succeeding." He shrugged as if he didn't care, but Hibari caught a split second of anger, or maybe even fear, crossing Mukuro's face. "So it's actually kind of nice to see you, Kyoya, since I can't leave my own head anymore." His smile was a little bitter, but more real than Hibari would have expected.

"Hm," was all Hibari said. It wasn't as if the feeling was mutual or anything - Mukuro pissed him off most of the time, and he was not interested in nice little midnight chats. With him or anyone.

Though this was not quite so bad as it could be. He hadn't seen Mukuro like this since the first time they met.

"Fine, fine," Mukuro said, laughing again. "I guess that's my cue to let you go. He'll show you out." Hibari realized that the boy, the younger Mukuro, was next to him again, looking up at him with clear eyes.

He nodded, wondering if he ought to say something to Mukuro - a farewell, or something. But that wasn't really Hibari's style, and so he just turned to go. Before he could follow the boy out, though, Mukuro's voice stopped him.

"Oh, that's right. Kyoya... I forgot to thank you."

Hibari looked back at Mukuro, eyes narrowing. "What?"

Mukuro didn't smile, just meeting his eyes. "For taking me to the infirmary."

Oh. That. Hibari scowled, unwilling to give Mukuro any ridiculous ideas. "Sleeping in supply rooms is against school rules."

He left with Mukuro's soft laughter in his ears, and steadfastly ignored the smile on the smaller Mukuro's face, following the boy down twisting hallways again, hallways that changed from broken-down building to laboratory to stone passageways and back again.

"This is where you came in," the boy said finally, stopping in the room Hibari recognized. The other child still cowered in the corner, and Hibari glanced in that direction, wondering what was buried in all these strange corners of Mukuro's mind.

"Don't," the young Mukuro next to him said quietly. "There's nothing that can be done about that one anymore."

Hibari looked down at that strangely familiar face, so certain and so cool. He couldn't exactly argue, and didn't know if he would have anyway. Finally, he just nodded.

Mukuro smiled at him, and pointed. "Go that way. And please try to remember some of this." His eyes flickered away, to the operating table and the boy in the corner. "But hopefully not all of it."

The direction Mukuro had pointed seemed to trail off, misty and gray, and Hibari set off without another look back. It was strange, to be in someone else's dream.

He walked through the grayness with no sense of time, and the vivid clarity of the conversation he'd had with Mukuro, the things he'd seen, slowly faded.

By the time Hibari woke up, it had become just an odd dream.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hi guys! Thank you for all the really nice reviews and everything. Unfortunately, this is the last of the chapters that I've already written, and I've been having really terrible writer's block. I don't know when I'll get the next part done. :( So I'll probably post a few of my other recent fics while I try to work on chapter 8. Hopefully it won't take too long, and I'm really sorry if it does!


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